World Cup Hetalia!
by Fezzes64
Summary: So! Yes, the game is afoot!...er...Ball. XD The game is-a football! This story has come to an end, featuring Usuk, Spamano, Gerita, and a few more, as well as friendships built in between, bonds forged through the power of football. Hetalia, in all it's glory, was a fight to elimination...Now a winner has emerged! :D Thank you for all who followed along and please remember this! :)
1. USA vs Ghana

"NOOOO! NO OH GOD NO!" America shrieked with his hands on his head, watching as the Ghana scorer ran victoriously around the field, being buried by his teammates in celebration. You could almost feel the American majority in the crowd's anger and loss of hope. "IT'S ALL OVER, IT'S HAPPENING AGAAAIIIN! It's all over…" he buried his face in his arms, nearly in tears.

England cursed under his breath, glaring at the opposing team. He seethed, not about ready to see Ghana defeat America once again. He hated to see the younger nation so hopeless. "Pull yourself together, America, there's still a chance." he murmured quietly, not taking his eyes off the field and resting his elbows on the railing. For his own sake, he had to hope the American team could pull through and finally win the football game. He narrowed his eyes at the scorer, and smirked as the man looked around in alarm. Benefits of being a nation. "America will win this game," he said to himself. "Else I shall perish under the grief of another defeat for a team that isn't even mine." He puffed out his chest and raised his chin confidently, looking down upon the field, knowing the words wouldn't do anything and all he could do was hope. "They won't lose again," he told his former charge, gently patting his back with a slight smile.

America whimpered and peeked from his fortress at the field as Britain petted his head, stroking his hair. "It's hopeless," he whined. "I'm going to lose to them _again_." he sniffled and leaned into the British nation.

"No you're not, don't say that." England replied soothingly, feeling terrible and trying to raise America's mood. He looked around, noting all the people who were absorbed by the game as it continued. He was probably the odd one out, having no attire/facepaint/flag that promoted either team, as opposed to America himself, who at least had a team jersey on, and he suddenly wished he'd at least brought something that was red, white, and blue. "Oi, do you want to watch the game from the field?" he leaned down to ask when the crowd randomly erupted into shouts for no particular reason.

"S-sure," America replied, and allowed Britain to grasp his hand and lead him. They had to jump out of the way of many outbursts(That scared the living daylights out of England, to say the least) as the USA made attempts to score, but they only had a few minutes left so England tried to hurry. At one point in their careful stepping, someone threw a random flag at England that didn't even apply to the game, and it draped over his head. He was really confused for a moment, wondering why the light suddenly went dark, until he realised what it was. Sensing America was still upset behind him, Britain turned and said "Oh, look America, they think I'm a terrorist," and he smiled when it made America giggle.

He grabbed America's hand again after he ripped the flag off of his head and let it flutter to the ground. "Let's go, quickly now," he urged, and gratefully stumbled into one of the entryways that led to the interior of the stadium. Finally clear of the seemingly endless fans, he walked at a more comfortable pace. He was glad there weren't as many people down here as he got down the ramp and headed for the closest entrance to the field. "Right-o! Should we go in this w-?" he turned to a nonexistent America and frowned confusedly. "America?"

He turned again to find that the said nation had stopped at the end of the ramp and was watching him with a childlike worry. Britain hadn't noticed he'd stopped. "Oi, oi, Alfred, what's the matter?" his eyes softened and his brows creased worriedly as he jogged back, frowning. "What's wrong, love, are you al-?" he was cut off as America drew him closer suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace and hid his face in England's shoulder.

"...Ah…" he said unsurely, slowly wrapping his arms around the younger nation's neck. "A-Ame...Alfred…" he mumbled, not quite certain what he was supposed to do. Well, what America wanted him to do. After an odd moment, he figured he probably shouldn't just stand there. So, he stuck to old habits and ran his fingers through his silky hair as the upset nation struggled not to sob.

"I-Iggy…" he muttered to his shoulder. "When we lose, you won't mind when I go bury myself for a century or two, right?" he asked weakly.

"Oh, America," England sighed with a voice full of concern. "Don't say that. Even if you do lose, I haven't ever seen your team play this well together before. You scored within the first minute! You still stand a chance to win; at worst you tie, right?" he tipped America's chin up and smiled sadly as his lip trembled. He nodded, and Britain knew he didn't want to try to say anything, lest he start crying for real. "Shh, shh, I promise you, you're not losing to Ghana again." he brushed his thumbs under America's eyes and gently took his hand again. "We'd best hurry; we're at Eighty-four minutes."

America opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, then closed it again.

England read his mind. "That's right," he chuckled. "Only ten or so minutes to change the world."

**O~o~O**

"Excuse me, you aren't allowed on the field. You have to go back." one of the officials told them, coming up to the pair and shifting her glasses.

Without a word, both nations simultaneously flashed their ID's and continued onwards without even looking at her, making the lady drop her clipboard in alarm as she realised who they were. With no more resistance, they hurried through the hall, past the bar and through the gate where presumably the American team entered in the first place. England had to pause and look around for a moment; it wasn't often he came by stadiums.

Finally they stepped out through the arching doorway where the game continued without delay. Everyone was sprinting towards the closest side of the field to the nations, where the Americans were trying to score. They were making a run for it, and it looked great, but then one of the Ghana players managed to kick the football out of bounds.

"Come along, then," England offered a rare smile and led America to the sidelines, where the coaches waved at them. He turned his attention to the field where one of the players in red lined up for a corner kick. "Now watch, something's up…" he frowned, walking a little closer and sensing America doing the same.

The next thing either of them knew, the ball was kicked in and one player tried to make a header, but just missed. All in that one instant, America lost hope in that moment and looked away, tears filling his eyes. No hope…But he was startled when England started screaming.

"YEEEES! BLOODY HELL YEAH! _THAT _IS HOW YOU _SCORE_ A _GOAL_, AMERICA!" he shouted without delay, whooping and yelling and grinning and basically giving voice to what all the people of America felt in that moment. "_IN- YOUR- FACE_, GHANAAA, HA HA! _THAT IS HOW YOU PLAY FOOTBALL AND YOU LOT BETTER NOT FORGET IT! AMERICA IS VICTORIOUS!_"

America glanced up at the screen in the room behind them and watched the repeat of the goal that he just missed seeing. He blinked, going numb, and Britain turned to see him, sporting a huge smile. "Alfred," he said excitedly, approaching him with a spring in his step. "You've won, love." he pinched his cheeks and tried to make him smile as he blinked in disbelief. " There's no way Ghana can come back. You've been redeemed!" he said softly, looking up at America with the most heartfelt admiration. It'd been a while since the Brit had looked so excited.

"W-we…" America mumbled, finally processing the full meaning. "W-we won…" he gasped in astonishment, and looked at England incredulously. "S-since the 1930's…" his voice cracked and Britain immediately moved closer and hugged him meaningfully, knowing it was a lot to take in. He felt America's warm tears on his shoulder and implored him to watch the last six minutes of the game.

It was only when the final whistle blew that the full weight, the full impact, the full greatness of the game hit America, and in the duration of the cheers making the stadium go deaf, as well as a beautifully unexpected state of mind, America suddenly turned England around by the shoulders, and it seemed a mutual agreement as the two met eyes. In that moment, America yanked him closer and kissed him fiercely, just for a little. Britain's eyes were wide, surprised and shocked and...Happy. No one seemed to notice the two.

And when America pulled away, England smiled.

It wasn't just any smile, it was Britain's teary-eyed smile that meant this was something meaningful, something that was a revelation, a revolution, even.

"I think we're all winners here," he said quietly, and America nodded with an equally happy smile.

* * *

**Alright, very short, right :D Very gay, indeed too *Strokes nonexistent moustache* I believe I did well, and I mean no offense to Ghana fans, but I saw a perfect Usuk moment :D If you like, and want for me to continue with these random game interpretations, I would appreciate if you, oh gracious reader, would let me know :) I half-wrote this watching The Grand Budapest Hotel, so lol yea XD Love to know what you think~ Thank you for reading ^^**

**~Fezzes64(AND LET'S ALL ROOT FOR BOTH AMERICA AND ENGLAND, IGGY STILL HAS A CHANCE AND AMERICA'S ON A ROLL, RIGHT?! WHOOO :D)**


	2. Spain vs Chile

Romano reluctantly stomped his way through the stadium, grumbling angrily to himself just to grumble angrily to himself and not really saying anything in particular. He was wearing the Italian team jersey because Spain had asked him to and was really determined to find out why; walking through the steady stream of random people wearing attire for Australia and the Netherlands made him feel awkward. The nation had no idea what he was supposed to be doing and clutched the end of his uniform top, biting his lip as he went. Usually when he went through the place he was at least with his brother or someone else.

He mentally cursed his brother for deciding to watch their team train for the day after tomorrow instead of coming with him to visit Spain and see the match today. The only thing the man talked about was how happy he was for Germany that he'd beat Portugal, and he didn't even seem to care his own team had a great chance until now. Spain was busy as well, where, he had no idea. It seemed everyone else was training or watching something or other. And this made Romano feel lonely.

The Italian brother wandered somewhat aimlessly for awhile, and eventually, after a couple of awkward circles around the interior, he finally decided to see what the people were roaring about this time. It was getting really loud, especially with all the Australian fans everywhere. So he finally followed a small group of Spanish fans through the gate to the spectator area, and winced at the dramatic increase in noise. Since no one was with him, it made him angrier than usual. He hoped he would at least bump into someone he knew.

Just then he was looking the wrong way, at the field, and he walked right in to someone slightly taller than him.

Romano flinched and stumbled backwards in surprise, while the other person jumped forward, having been distracted by the game as well. "Bloody hell!" he shouted, probably towards being startled and not at the game. He turned around to apologise, and then stopped in surprise.

"Er...Sorry, Britain," Romano mumbled, biting back an impressive number of insults he could have thrown, knowing it would only turn into a cursing match between the two. He did glare at him, however, almost smirking knowing his team had beat the English the other day.

"No, no, that was my fault. I'm sorry, Romano." England replied, quickly taking the blame and offering a shy smile. He was apparently in a good mood and looked rather well, the Italian decided, compared to the furious raging Englishman he'd witnessed the other day. He was about to storm past the Brit, but then he realised the nation was wearing his own team's uniform. So he hesitated. "Oh, you're here to see Spain play, right?" England asked.

"_Si,_" Romano replied warily.

Britain sighed. "Australia's just lost, I'm really sorry for him; the Dutch just defeated them and he's out." he nodded to a man down the field, who had fallen to his knees and covered his face with his hands. He looked terribly upset. England must've known Romano was still mad at the Netherlands, because he had to resist a smile when the Italian wrinkled his nose. "Yes, I know. Spain has another chance to win it today, though. Come on, I'm assuming you're not in uniform for nothing." he smiled in a friendly way and beckoned him. "We're going to see Spain on down there and perhaps pass a football around until the game starts."

"Stupid Spaniard losing to an even stupider Dutch nation." Romano mumbled, acknowledging what England said but deciding to comment on the infinite stupidity of the world instead, having to jog to catch up. "If he loses this time, I'll...I'll…" he stopped when he noticed Britain chuckling and glared at the ground, blushing slightly.

So he was quiet for most of the walk, allowing England to lead him through the passageway to the field. There were so many people coming and leaving, and the older Italian had no idea how many more people the stadium could fit. They finally rounded a corner that led to the green turf, and he looked around in slight awe. It was such a cool place, even he had to admit. No one questioned their presence, and Romano guessed people knew the nations would be present. Britain broke into a run after passing through an archway, apparently having spotted someone since he started waving. Romano sighed and followed, rolling his eyes.

"Heya, Iggy!" a loud voice greeted. "Oh, and Romano too! Spain's coming soon, let's go!" America ran towards them as well, exchanging a small hug with Britain before turning and running with them. "I dunno about you guys, but I think this is gonna be a great game!" he grinned and flashed a thumbs-up.

"It better be," Romano grumbled, and both the nations glanced at him.

There was a moment of silence among the three, and Romano assumed the other two were respecting him with wishes for Spain. Even if America was rooting for Chile. "Um...Alright, then. I'll go find a football, if you guys can find an empty space to pass it around." Britain said after a while, and turned and ran towards the central part of the field.

The American awkwardly turned to the Italian. "Is this area alright?"

"Cheh, I guess." he crossed his arms and turned away.

"Romano!" announced a very happy voice as England ran back, dribbling one of the many World Cup balls. "I'm so glad you're here!"

America turned and greeted Spain as he jogged up, and Romano glowered at him as Spain tried to give him a hug; his usual greeting to the Spaniard.

**O~o~O**

The four nations were heading the ball around, having to move to the sidelines when the players entered the field. It was really fun, actually, even to Romano as America kept dropping the ball. At some point it went to England and Spain going back and forth because the other two were laughing too hard at the faces they made whenever they hit it. Romano and America just basically had a field day, not being able to recover because every time they tried, the hilarity and ridiculousness kept coming back.

Spain and England just looked glad Romano was smiling.

Finally, the four just stuck to passing it around by foot, and they all made silent agreements that they should do this more often with the others. It was a good, friendly way to just hang out, Romano admitted to himself. He might have to ask Spain to do this occasionally.

That was when the Spanish National Anthem started playing.

The ball was kicked at Romano since they'd decided to start chipping it up in the air, and he landed it with his chest and passed it in a vague direction, looking towards the flag. The others looked towards each other and knew their game was over, all giving knowing smiles. Romano and Spain sang the word to themselves and tensed. It was time to play.

**O~o~O**

England, America, and Spain simultaneously jumped when Romano shrieked and yelled various curses and lots of colourful language in anger, when the opposing team reached two points. He screamed until his voice cracked, and/or until he ran out of breath, where he would lash out at some invisible victim, blowing up and erupting at nothing in particular. He looked so upset, the poor nation. Spain was about to get up from the bench where the rest of them were sitting at to comfort him, or maybe even start shouting with him, but he had the feeling Romano was not up for that and would only hate on him.

The two English-speaking countries winced as Spain sadly looked away from Romano and the field, burying his head in his hands. He seemed to already know the outcome of the game, just by glancing at his player's lack of confidence and hope. Britain, sitting in the middle, was half-occupied being nervous for his game tomorrow and worrying for Romano, who had literally decided to go on a rampage down the field, where he chased a couple of coaches further on down. And poor Spain! The man was absolutely brokenhearted and devoid of will.

America seemed to notice this, because he glanced at Britain and brought his arm around the Englishman's shoulders, pulling him closer so he had to lean on him.

England smiled sadly at him, grateful for it, but nodded to Spain, who was sitting next to him.

The British nation put his arm around the Spaniard, patting his back, and both he and America nodded reassuringly. Even if he does lose, it will change nothing on Spain's superior talent in football. That was the silent pact they made as they sat there embracing one another.

They didn't exchange any more words until half-time.

That was when Italy burst into appearance through the gate, surprising the three. He looked panicked, and tore down the strip of the side of the field after Romano the moment he spotted him. The three watched him as he raced towards his brother rather confusedly, not sure what to make of his sudden arrival.

Germany emerged after him, but that wasn't as much of a surprise, since if there was one, the other was always close by. He looked to England, to Italy, then to England again, who shrugged and gestured with his barely free hand to the game. "_Spain's losing_," he mouthed, and Germany frowned, his brows creasing with sympathy.

He jogged over.

"_Guten tag_, Spain," he said unsurely, approaching the trio and standing before them. "Britain, America," he nodded to the others.

"Mm? Oh, _si_, _hola_, Germany…" Spain mumbled despondently, not moving his lowered, subjected head. "You can sit down, _mi amigo_, we're just watching the game."

"_Ja_, I see." the German blinked, and shyly sat down next to the Spaniard after England's nod of approval. "I, um, didn't mean to intrude; Italy insisted we come."

"Bro, it's the World Cup, you can't intrude on the World Cup," America snickered a little obnoxiously. "It's no problem, German-dude!"

Germany opened his mouth to reply, but spotted Italy and Romano coming back. The four all looked the same way, and watched as Italy approached. He didn't run so much as he bounded, and he looked very graceful about it too. He was grasping Romano's hand, and the older brother still looked furious as Italy led him back the way they came.

They both looked somewhat mournful as well. "Ve~! Germany! Spain! _Ciao_, Britain and America!" Italy greeted all of them(Even if he was just with Germany) with a half-hearted smile.

"Spain, you stupid jerk, something's wrong with your team." Romano snapped and sat on the side furthest away from him.

The Spaniard only sank further in his sea of despair. "I know, I'm sorry Romano," he murmured sadly. Unfortunately the Italian continued ranting and didn't hear him.

**O~o~O**

"Oh, Spain, I'm so sorry…" England said, quietly watching the man as the final whistle blew. "I'm so, so sorry…"

America, Italy, and Germany turned to Spain and chose some way to comfort him as he shifted off the bench and down to his knees on the ground, patting his back and hugging him. He didn't sob or anything, but he blinked at the ground with teary eyes and whimpered a couple of times. Even Germany came down and squeezed his shoulders, looking downwards dejectedly in respect for the eliminated nation.

England knelt beside him and rested his forehead on the losing nation's arm, closing his eyes miserably, America rubbed his back knowingly, and Italy just flat-out sobbed and threw his arms around Spain's torso. No one knew where Romano went.

Spain mumbled a couple of soft 'Thank you's to the group and tried to stand after a while, but he couldn't and fell to all fours, grief-stricken by the terrible game.

That was when Romano appeared, his cheeks slightly pink from yelling and running, presumably. He looked so furious, so angry, and it made Spain's face go pale when he peeked up at him. He then lashed his tearing gaze to the grass again, waiting for the degradation.

To his and everyone else's surprise, Romano knelt in front of him and wrapped his arms around Spain's neck, nuzzling his shoulder. It took everyone a moment to process what was happening, and everyone else backed off when Spain looked up again, eyes wide with surprise. "I'm sorry too, _idiota…_" Romano apologised in a whisper, and hugged him tightly.

* * *

**So I did decide to go on :D Big day tomorrow for England, I'm thinking about writing that and Japan vs Greece all in the same day if I can~ The reviews made me happy; to be honest I wasn't expecting any XP NOOOO SPAIN LOST AND SO DID AUSTRALIA AND I FEEL TERRIBLE FOR THEM D: Ah, well, it's alright, Spain is still amazing, and Australia is pretty awesome too C: Yes, Hazelstiltskin, I wasn't looking ahead XP LONG LIVE THE QUEEN AND HOPEFULLY ENGLAND TOO XD Thank you, DubzNChloe(:D),ThePrussianCross, and Guest, I really appreciated your reviews :D**

**~Fezzes64**


	3. England vs Uruguay

**Foreword**

**O~o~O**

America quietly walked up the stairs of the hotel the nations were all staying at, his gait indicating he was trying to sneak in as softly as possible. Or rather, he was trying not to wake anyone. A couple of others were still asleep even though the first game started in half an hour, probably having been up late. It wasn't a bad thing; not many of them visited Brazil that often and it was quite an amazing place, alight with parties and lights and holidays and basically teeming with things to do, especially at night. Everyone was occupied with something.

The countries didn't have a room so much as they had an entire floor to themselves in an expensive suite, that was open and large and basically was one huge hotel room. It was pretty freaking amazing, all of them agreed, and they were all determined to enjoy it as much as possible. After all, the thirty-two of them that were here were participating for a common purpose. No one was enemies here, and they all were happy to be present.

America had to admit, it was an honour to compete among the elite, in one of the best sports ever invented. A vacation and competition all in one, and even if he wasn't playing he felt like he was.

The American made it up the stairs and tip-toed across the room, quickly and urgently, trying to hold back a grin as he slid open the door to the sleeping quarters. No one else(awake) was around as far as America knew, so he turned to the beds and hurried towards the one he'd slept in. He found exactly who he was looking for.

"Iggy," he murmured as he knelt beside him on the floor, unable to stop grinning now. "It's time to wake up, come on, yeah?" he gently shook his shoulders, urging him to be awake. Poor man, he looked exhausted.

England murmured something illegible in his sleep, and America chuckled. "Alright, alright, Iggy, wake up, today's a big day! Come on, now." he hummed, stroking his cheek and leaning over the bed slightly. He debated on taking a picture on his phone; the man looked so adorable when he was asleep!

He grinned as Britain's eyes slowly opened, barely squinting at him. "Ah, there he is. Good morning, sleepyhead," America crooned, cradling his face as England's eyes finally fluttered awake. He tried teasing him awake by nudging him a couple of times.

Britain took a moment to process this. "...Urgh...Good...night, Al...fred..." he replied tiredly, wearily turning over and pulling the sheets up over his head, sighing deeply. He was probably zonked; America had also had to carry him to bed since he'd fallen asleep on the couch long before everyone else got back. The nation had been talking with Germany and Spain, and after they had left with the Italy brothers he had started reading, and henceforth slept there for a while.

America smiled warmly at him and moved up to sit on the bed, rubbing his back. "No, it's not good night, not until later. C'mon, it's morning, Iggy, it's time to qualify."

**O~o~O**

England rubbed his eyes as they entered the stadium, almost bumping into America with fatigue. "Oh...Sorry." he mumbled, and America put his arm around the Brit's shoulders to guide him along. Although Britain wouldn't admit it, he appreciated the gesture.

"Iggy, it's halftime in Columbia vs Ivory Coast." America commented, watching one of the many screens set up in the hall. "...Huh. Still nothing-nothing. Wow." he shrugged and walked on, grinning at nothing in particular.

It was a nice day so far; the sun was shining and the place wasn't as crowded as it would be later that day. Probably because everyone was watching the game, but America was determined to stay out of the spectator part for a little while, until England woke up completely. He debated on finding a place to get them coffee, since that sounded like something that would help. Regardless, his mind was on the game later today. He didn't want to see England eliminated.

Britain wore his other team jersey, obviously, which was half-tucked in and put on somewhat lazily, which began to bother America after a while, so he stopped and seized the other by his torso. It immediately had it's effect; making the Brit's face flush a bright red. "In or out?" he asked in a deeply serious tone, and England blinked at him with eyes half-open.

"Out?" he answered slowly, and the American quickly untucked his jersey, arranging it a little more neatly around him. "Oh...Thank you."

America laughed. "No prob, Iggy." he tugged down on his own shirt, a Union Jack T that he'd found last minute. He was definitely rooting for England today; he wanted to repay him for his optimism the other had offered the other day. His support was what he needed that day against Ghana, and without him being there America didn't know what he would do. Britain was the best.

The two walked on, absentmindedly watching the early game when it continued. It looked like Columbia had it in the bag for a while, but Ivory Coast came back with one point so they still stood a chance. England figured France and Spain were watching, since they were their colonies. Based on the noise, it was probably a pretty exciting game. Britain was dreadfully nervous for his own when it came time, and America repeatedly displayed his confident and positive attitude towards the coming match.

"Oh, Côte D'Ivoire lost…" Britain said after the game ended, observing the score and frowning.

"Coat Dih-Vwah?" America asked, looking at him curiously.

"Ivory Coast." England clarified. "He was colonised by France a while ago."

"Ohhh."

England stopped walking and sighed. "I guess we should go ahead and go down there; I have to wish my team good luck." he took a shaky breath and clenched his jaw, obviously on edge. He was afraid.

"Alright, I'll meet you down there. But first, I'll run by and get ya something to drink, alright?" America grinned and pressed a kiss to the Brit's cheek. "Take it easy, yeah?" he waved and turned around to head down the halls again.

Britain stood there for a moment as America walked off, blushing a deep shade of red, before numbly heading to the field with a hint of a smile.

**O~o~O**

"AAAAGHGGHHH! YEEEESSS!" England yelled, jumping to his feet with his hands on his head. "BLOODY HELL YES!" He looked relieved for the first time during the game, when finally Rooney, the only World Class player on the English team, scored. It tied the game, one to one, and it seemed all of Britain(Not just the man himself) was reignited with hope.

So far throughout the whole game, England blamed everything on the referee; he seemed to only call things that the English were at fault for, and he always called for an 'injury' to any of the Uruguayan players. His commentary went from "He favours the bloody South Americans" to "THAT WAS A FOUL YOU BLOODY TWIT CALL IT" and for a while the team was somewhat out of it.

At one point England just flat out lost it and ran up to consult with the coaches, where he spoke with the players. America assumed he was giving them a pep-talk of sorts, but after witnessing a steady stream of shouting and arms waving around, he figured he was probably putting them in line.

America sighed when the game started up again, and squeezed Britain's hand. He should've been supporting the man more; the game was so close to playing into his hands. It might actually work out today. Just one more goal, he kept saying. Rooney can do it, he keeps giving them opportunities. They just have to keep their defenses up.

Spain showed up to watch the game with Australia; they had their final match coming up. They were here mostly to see England, but were also eager to see Japan and Greece later that day. Italy came as well, by himself. So with the group of nations once again dominating the single bench, they all carefully watched the game, right to the very last minutes.

Unfortunately, after one shot on goal the Uruguayan goalie, he punted it back down the field, and with a missed header and a break, Uruguay scored again.

All the nations simultaneously stood. "NOOOO! NO NOT AGAIN! NO!" all of them started yelling different things, save for Britain who'd gone numb with shock. The expression he had was pure agony, shame and distress etched in his face. America was the first to notice and eased the pale-faced Englishman back down to his seat, closing his eyes in worry. It was happening again, that feeling he'd had against Ghana, and then the hopelessness with Spain yesterday...But England couldn't lose!

"It's not...We're going to...The game…" Britain started to speak without thinking coherently, and America pulled him into a hug, knowing it was inevitable now. His hero was losing.

England made a desperate attempt to come back; Rooney set them up, the others worked to get a goal, but the Uruguayan goalie would not give in. After one last final attempt and a goal kick, the game was over and done.

Surprisingly, the first person to react was Italy.

He got up and knelt in front of England, whose head was buried in his hands. the Italian gently took his wrists and made sure he made eye contact with the other as America soothingly rubbed the Brit's back, and he made the most determined, most sure look anyone had ever seen out of him. "I will fight for you, Britain." he assured him with the utmost certainty. "I won't lose tomorrow. You aren't done yet."

* * *

**ITALY IT'S ALL UP TO YOU TO KEEP ENGLAND IN THE CUP :DDD Anyways, dude, bro, Japan vs Greece XD Totally in character, 0-0 :D I promise I will get to writing it, but due to computer issues and a road trip tomorrow, I won't get to it quite yet. I have a bunch coming up; Italy, Germany, and then the USA from what I remember, but I will try my best to get to all of them! :) I can't wait, writing these is so much fun X3 Thanks for reading, good night~!**

**~Fezzes64**


	4. Japan vs Greece

"Ve~! Japan, I can't wait!" Italy squealed excitedly, clinging to Germany's arm and skipping along in between him and the shorter Asian man with a bright grin. "You and Greece are going to have a great game!"

Germany and Japan shared a knowing glance, smiling a little wryly. They knew the poor nation was still upset after England's game earlier that day and he was trying so hard to be happy, almost putting up a front for them. Germany had about enough time to distract him by sitting with him in one of the official's rooms and letting him watch a little of a silly American movie called "_Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure_" to try and cheer him up, until he had to lead him back down to the stadium to meet with Japan. If they were honest they both felt really sorry for the little Italian. He was trying too hard to be buoyant and sanguine.

Despite his feelings for this, Japan was half-distracted. He would never admit it, but he was afraid of what would happen once they got down to the field. Did he want to win? Or lose? On one hand, he wanted to advance and potentially have a chance at winning the cup. That was natural, he was sure. But on the other hand he was going against Greece. The man was one of his best friends, and the only reason he wasn't with he and the other two parts of the Axis was because of the competition about to ensue. If it was Italy he was going against, or maybe even Germany, they would play a good and proper, fair game, just because it was fun. But Greece...There was something about the thought of beating him that made Japan reluctant and uneasy.

Germany seemed to sense this. "Japan," he began, glancing at him. "I meant to look ahead at the schedule. When is your next game?" he asked to put up a new subject, to sidetrack him.

"Tuesday." Japan replied, frowning and looking around nervously. He was almost paranoid Greece was around somewhere and he suddenly wanted to hurry. The Asian knew he was being ridiculous, but the feeling was making him itch. "I...um, understand you are going against America-San on Thursday."

"_Ja_, it's going to be interesting." the German said with fair assumption, now walking awkwardly when Italy decided to literally hang off his shoulder. "I don't know, though...If I want to beat him or not since he is England's only hope. They were among the few who cheered and witnessed my win against Portugal. I didn't expect them to be so friendly towards me." his voice got slightly softer in embarrassment, and Italy giggled.

"Wow, Germany looks so red~!" he commented loudly, making a few people look over, and Germany blushed deeper.

"Sh-shut up!" he yelled, making Italy start laughing that adorable little bubbly giggle of his.

Japan smiled and shook his head as he inconspicuously snapped a quick picture of the scene with his phone. He had the best of friends. "Arright," he said after a bit. "I suppose I can't starr anymore. Ret's go."

**O~o~O**

"No!" Japan raised his voice slightly as one of his players began to make a fast break, and at the same time, Italy, Germany, and America(Who'd joined them not long after the game started) simultaneously started cheering for the potential goal. Japan panicked; at first he thought it was a great idea, but now he was flailing his arms to call it off, to no avail. He noticed Greece on the other side of the field grinding his teeth nervously.

"DUDE! C'MON YOU'RE ALMOST THERE MAN! CROSS IT! _CROSS IT!_!"

"Get down there! He needs someone to pass it to!"

"Ve~! The Greeks are all spread out, now's your chance, Keisuke Honda~!"

"CARR IT OFF! CARR IT OFF HONDA YOU CAN'T DO IT-"

The stadium resounded with shouts, suddenly, as one of the Greeks tripped a Japanese, but then undecidedly tried to catch him, then not, then catch, then not. Regardless, he got a foul called on him and both Japan and Greece sighed in great relief. Well, Japan still got a free kick, but he was confident the Greeks would hold his team back. They didn't do long range passes too well, and the Greek goalie was on his game. "Arright. Greece can do this." he murmured to himself, rubbing his chin and raising his chin.

America, shockingly, was the first to notice Japan's strange reactions. "Hey, bro," he said, coming around the two Europeans to the Asian. "Why're ya saying that? Dude, you almost scored!"

"I do not want to score right now." Japan replied stiffly, watching the Greeks make their way down the field but not really acknowledging it. He was somewhat out of it, having to struggle to pay attention.

The taller nation pouted worriedly. "Japan, you're supposed to support your team! You can't betray yourself! That'd be like Luke saying 'I'm going to the Dark Side'!" he stressed, waving his arms in front of the Asian's face like a panicked madman. "...Bro, are you even listening to me?"

"No." Japan replied, staring at a stressed Greece across the field.

"...Ouch." America deadpanned, stabbing himself with a nonexistent knife and wrenching it in his chest dramatically, trying to get Japan to give him attention. "C'mon, man, I'll tell you what, I'll kiss Iggy for ya tonight! I'll do it in front of everyone, ya hear? _Ev-ery-one_! That means you can totally take like a gajillion pictures with your camera! You've been asking me to ever since I told you about Ghana!"

Japan paused abruptly. He had to consider this. He looked at America and imagined all those nose-bleeding-worthy pictures plaguing his phone, but then he let his stoic gaze wander back to the man across the field, who was making a Herculean(_Hehe, see what I did there_) effort yelling at his team as he ran to catch up with the fleeting action of the game.

He weighed his options for a moment more. "No." He let the opportunity pass, half-mesmerised by the way the Greek moved when he sprinted, his shirt flapping, his muscles rippling with each stride, his face narrowed with an exhilarating determination- ...My Buddha.

Oh well. America would probably kiss the Englishman in front of everyone anyway. It was just how he rolled.

America whined and pouted again, childishly sitting in front of him and overall trying to bug him out of his purposeful ignorance. He would give up after a while, but Japan didn't mind him trying to be incessantly annoying. Everyone was pretty much used to him now. Young and still craving for compassion like the best of them. But Japan was still distracted…

"WHAT YEAH DUDE THIS IS FRIGGIN' AWESOME HE GOT RED-CARDED!" America suddenly shrieked, startling Japan out of his daydreaming thoughts.

"Wha-? O-oh no!" a wave of dread hit him and he stood up immediately from the bench, looking with wide eyes at the angry Greek captain leaving the field. This was terrible!

"YEA~! Ve, ve, Germany, look!" Italy yelled, jumping on Germany's back and gesturing upwards like he was on a roller coaster.

Germany rocked a little at the sudden weight, but quickly regained balance and didn't seem to mind. "_Ja,_ Italy, I see, he got red-carded." he murmured, paying close attention to the game.

"No, not that! The clouds! They look like they're one the sky laying on a sheet of glass!" Italy grinned gleefully, opening his arms to the view.

"Is that so…"

Japan shook his head. Oh, no...Greece would only be playing with ten players. He rubbed his temples in anxiety and shook his head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening…He breathed shakily in fear of what was to come.

It went back and forth from there. His team wasn't playing as well and left much to be desired, even with their advantage over the Greeks. Japan seemed to just go a little insane, getting flustered both when his team had a chance to shoot, and when the other team made attempts. Soon, the others stopped watching the game and focused on Japan, who was probably going absolutely mad, not knowing what he wanted or how he wanted it to happen or what yogurt tasted like or when he would get those pictures with America and England, or if he even wanted to know anything anymore. And this made him really distressed because suddenly there wasn't a familiar Greek on the other side of the field anymore either.

Then the final whistle blew.

With a shocked, worried expression, Japan looked up at the screens and froze at the score.

The thought didn't even occur to him they could tie.

With this new revelation exploding in his head, he suddenly was swept up in someone's arms, startling him out of his mind. What was happening?! Who-? What?! The only thing he could process for a moment was the flying colours of his friends smiling at him, He had to take a moment to collect himself, and once he did, he realised he was spinning around in the embrace of a grinning Greek.

"We tied," he sighed in his ear, and practically cradled his head, pressing his face into Japan's jet black hair. "I'm so happy, I didn't want to win."

And everyone smiled knowingly at Japan's very red, very happy face as he nodded in agreement and hugged Greece back.

* * *

**XD Alright, finally, sorry XP I'm back from Oklahoma, and it took me a while to get back into the story because I was watching Mexico vs Croatia :D Anyways, I hope I got these two in character :D I'll try my best to do Italy's game, Germany's game, AND the EPIC USA game that I witnessed the moment I got home :") It was amazing, literally the moment I turned on the telly to see what was happening, the US scored~ XD Tomorrow is a big day, too. I think I'll just write Italy's game once I get to it, since England is basically eliminated. I'll mention it and stuff, like I will Spain's game today :D But it might take me a while to catch up again XP I have much fluffy GerIta and Usuk planned...*Giggles evilly* Oh! And!**

****Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure: I wrote the first part of this story watching this movie, and I must say, it is so hilarious XDDD If it made me giggle the entire time(Since it's about history and stuff too like Hetalia "Time-travel-trying-to-pass-exam-mad-dash-through-history type thing") then it had Italy rolling around on the floor laughing XD**

**I think this is the first chapter without England in it O.o wow XD Anyways, tomorrow I will write out Italy vs Costa Rica(:'() and Germany vs Ghana. Then USA vs Portugal and then by that time I'll have to do Italy vs Uruguay. Can't wait~! :DD**

**XD And of course, leave it to Italy to comment on the clouds, right XD Right about where his head is, wouldn't you say? X3**

**~Fezzes64**


	5. Italy vs Costa Rica

"Ve, England, England, where is England…" Italy murmured to himself, jogging through the stadium fast enough to pass everyone else but slow enough so he could observe who exactly he was passing. It was mostly just random people; some of the Italian fans waved at him as he passed and he grinned half-heartedly and saluted them if he saw them. He was so torn, so nervous, so afraid of what was to come later that day. He was determined more than anything else to win this game, even if he had to take it upon himself and play, which was why he was in uniform. His shoes announced his presence from afar; his cleats almost sounded like rocks steadily hitting the pavement, and his loosely-fitting uniform shirt proudly flourished the number '-17'.

He was starting to get hopeless, thinking the Brit wouldn't show up in his sight at all, and even if he didn't know it, Italy was desperate for his support. Britain's team's whole fate this year completely relied on Italy winning this game, and he was utterly intent on fulfilling his promise to the Englishman. He had to; England had recently become a great friend to him. Ever since the second Great War ended and most everyone he knew joined the _EU/UN_, England had been so nice to him. Lots of people had. And it seemed almost a debt he had to repay after Britain was so kindhearted and warm to him. Once you got to know him and got over his sarcastic and cynical tendencies, he was a really nice and caring man.

"Britain~!" he desperately cried after a while, rolling out the 'r' in his name. "Britaaaaiiiin~!" his voice seemed to bounce and fluctuate as he ran. He looked around helplessly, trying to find the one man who could make or break his mental confidence for the day.

"Oof!" he ran right into someone and stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet and falling on his rump to the floor. He winced in pain, and peeked up at the person he'd offended(Who'd stood their ground and not even budged when Italy bumped into him), about to let out a stream of apologies as he rubbed his backside. "O-oh, _scusi_, sir, I'm so sorr-"

"Italy?" The man looked at him with a shocked face. It was America! He turned around to face him with his typical broad smile and his eyes lit up as he realised who'd smacked into him. "Dude, bro, we've been looking for ya!" he laughed, and waved brightly at him.

"We?" Italy asked childishly, frowning and looking behind America to see just the man he was looking for. "Oh! E-England!" a smile grew on his face, and he seemed to finally relax for the first time that day. "Oh, Britain, it's such a relief to see you-" he began, with his eyes practically swimming with gratitude.

"For God's sake America, help the poor man up!" England interrupted, stepping around America and catching one of Italy's flailing hands to pull him back to his feet, the ever-faithful gentleman he was. "Oh, uh, hello," he said in surprise as Italy eagerly used the momentum to throw his arms around Britain's neck and hug him fiercely, grinning in much needed comfort. "Well someone's happy, hmm, Italy?" he commented, chuckling a bit at the Italian's enthusiasm.

"Ve~" Italy hummed in agreement, closing his eyes and nodded to the Brit's shoulder. "I was looking for you, the game's about to start~" he sang.

Britain glanced at America, exchanging a warm smile with him at the affection the Italian never failed to repeatedly display. He had such a gentle spirit. "Is that so?" he asked, pulling away slightly to catch his eyes, nodding to him. "In that case, why are we still standing here? Let's go."

**O~o~O**

"Italy! There you are!" yelled a familiar voice.

The three nations turned, mild surprised as they noticed Germany jogging stiffly towards them with worry etched in his face. He looked stressed as he picked up the pace to hurry and cast repeated glances over his shoulder. Italy squeaked and hid behind England, and the two westerner countries assumed he noticed something different about the German's manner.

"_Italia_, what were you thinking?! The game is about to start, Romano and the coaches are going _verrückt_! Get over there, now!" Germany snapped, waving furiously towards the other side of the field, in which Italy nodded shakily and yelped as the larger nation glared at him.

"Yes, captain, sorry sir!" Italy whimpered, immediately sprinting across the field to his side where the Italians waited, to all the player's befuddlement. They all stared at him, Costa Rican and Italian alike with their jaws hanging open.

"NOT THAT WAY YOU _DUMMKOPF_ GO AROUND!" Germany shrieked, as America burst out laughing and England chuckled gleefully at everyone's bewildered faces.

"Good grief, that is one silly nation…" Britain shook his head in amusement, planting his hands on his hips as America clung to him, still cracking up. "Calm down there, chap, he's just nervous. No harm done." he nodded to Germany, before watching the referee stop gawking and get back to starting the game. "America, really now, hush." he added pointedly as America continued laughing.

They all turned to head the right way across the field, just as the kickoff went in play. It took awhile for them to even get to the end of their side, but it was alright. None of them seemed to mind, since they were walking at a somewhat leisurely pace.

"Ugh. Pathetic Italian." Germany mumbled, and then flinched at his own words. "Er...I-I mean he's dumb but he's really sweet, too…" he said more to himself than anyone else, looking away in thought as a light pink colour made itself known across his face. England grinned at him from behind, finding this rather cute.

It was so endearing to the Brit how the German still couldn't seem to realise he seriously cared a lot for the little Italian. Britain would even go as far as to say Germany might possibly love Italy, and he suspected if it were true it wouldn't be a big surprise. The notion was quite adorable, nonetheless.

England jumped and started out of this thoughts when America's fingers entwined with his, and he looked up in shock when his face began burning. His brow twitched, and he opened his mouth to protest out of instinct and embarrassment. But he froze and grit his teeth when he realised America wasn't even looking at him, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

Britain blushed and looked away, mumbling a curse under his breath, trying to calm down. If he got flustered America would only find it funny and call him 'cute'. He hated it, to an extent, and even though the younger nation called it extreme modesty many times, England firmly believed he was just being decent.

He felt America's hand squeeze his, prompting him to do the same. He glowered at the American, but did eventually close his fingers and reluctantly hold his hand.

It was kind of funny; he was more worried about America than he was the game at hand.

"Ve~! No! Balotelli, what are you doing?!" cried Italy's shrill voice, and simultaneously all three nations looked up when they rounded the last corner to the field and were headed towards the Italian players.

"Cheh, that was stupid! You can play better than that!" Romano yelled, standing alongside Italy as the subs all joined them on the sideline, all shouting similar things and throwing off a few Costa Ricans.

Germany, England, and America decided now was a good time to start jogging over, eyes wide in surprise with the scene. It wasn't often you saw Italy like this.

"Italy, Italy," Germany said, looking a little worried at the edged-up nation, almost running past him(It was a little awkward because then the Italians all looked at him weird since he was the only German in the group), and tugged his shoulders, pulling the ginger back slightly so he stumbled a bit into Germany. He looked up in alarm, looking slightly upset and fearful, but he appeared comforted in the sudden embrace. "It's alright, Italy, you're alright."

**O~o~O**

The game wasn't going well at all.

"No! Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Italy whimpered, biting his lip and spinning in a few aimless circles, hands on his head, elluding Germany's attempts at comforting the poor man..

England had taken it upon himself to yell at the game in Italy's place, since the poor man looked like he was having a mental breakdown. Sure, he cared about being eliminated and all, but it was mostly because he cared about Italy having the best chance possible moving on into the next stage. But right now his team was in disarray, most of the stadium was cheering for Costa Ricans(Meaning there was one tiny section in the stands behind them that was dedicated to the Italians) and it didn't look like they had a chance at equalising the score at all.

"DUDE, REALLY?!" America yelled for a third time at the crowd, as Italy went on their way to scoring, and the stadium resounded with hateful protest, throwing off the players once more.

Britain sighed. "America, there's nothing we can do about it. Except maybe put a muzzle on my commentators…" he growled, thinking of the said British people laughing and blatantly hating on the Italians. "I didn't think it was possible for my people to be so obnoxious."

Germany seethed in agreement next to him, shifting from foot to foot and crossing his arms. "If I could understand the Spanish commentators, I'd probably say they're all obnoxious." he muttered sarcastically, making sure no one else but the nations heard.

"Pfft, no kidding bro, It's way better if you don't know what they're saying, so you can just watch the game and laugh when they say 'GOOOOOOOL!' It's pretty great, the Spanish aren't as annoying as mine or Iggy's." America responded with a grin, teasingly elbowing the Brit and earning a smack on his head in return. When he shouted, it startled a lot of Italians near them and made them jump.

Even Germany cracked a smile, all knowing they weren't serious in their contradictions. It was good comic relief from the tragedy at hand, though. Seriously, it was a whole Shakespearean play writing itself out before them! The nations turned their attention towards the field once more.

Five minutes before the end of the game, and Italy still hadn't made any sort of comeback. All of them winced when one of the players on the field fell after being pushed and the ref didn't do anything about it. Most of them had given up, it was obvious in their faces and stride. Team Italy was devoid of aspiration.

And poor Italy himself was crouching as close as the linesman would allow by the field, hopelessness engraved in his usually happy face while he poked absentmindedly at the grass. Romano had gone to rant at the coaches and wasn't there beside him, rendering him alone in his wallowing state.

The three still standing all lowered their heads when the final whistle blew, all depressed with the result of the game. Under normal circumstances, America would go for the South American team because most of them on down there were pretty nice to him, but this was Italy, his friend. England knew this meant his end in the World Cup this year, and he pursed his lips slightly. He'd already accepted it; he'd had worse happen, and this wasn't as bad as getting eliminated without losing a game. He sighed, but he wasn't upset. His team was yet young and had lots to offer under Rooney's lead. He'd try again come next four years. Germany breathed in deeply and pinched his nose, looking sad as well. His poor little Italian, who loved playing football was once again outplayed.

They all exchanged a glance when they noticed Italy, who hadn't moved yet, and nodded mutually to head towards him. They shyly approached, Germany kneeling by his right and England and America to his left.

"...Italy?" Germany asked.

"..." the smaller nation still poked at the ground with dulled eyes, his lower lip quivering. It literally broke all of their hearts respectively just watching him.

"E-erm...Uh, Italy-" Britain started, reaching out to touch his trembling shoulder.

"O-oh England!" Italy suddenly whirled and tackled the Brit to the ground by accident when he tried to throw his arms around him, making them both collapse on the turf. "I failed you! I promised you and I failed you! I am a terrible person, I deserve to go die!" he sobbed somewhat incoherently into England's shirt. "I am so sorry, Britain, I really am, I should be eliminated, not you! It's all my fault, all my fault…" his speech was lost in his wails and the three others looked alarmed at this.

To everyone's shock, Britain smiled sadly and chuckled a little breathlessly, trying to sit up underneath Italy's unrelenting grip. He eventually could once Italy shifted his arms around his torso, so the Englishman forced him to look up. "Italy, love, I promise you, it's quite alright. It's not your fault at all, don't say that. Look at me," he said when Italy tried to avert his now wide gaze. "Listen; you are at no fault whatsoever. You did absolutely nothing wrong. I will not allow you to blame yourself, I've lost in far worse ways, believe me." his words were deeply serious, and they rang with honesty.

It was a wonder anyone ever questioned his comforting abilities before, because Italy immediately calmed down and resorted to leaning over in another hug.

England gave a soft, satisfied smile at the the finally soothed Italian in his lap and patted his back. It was a moment of panic in the reconciliation, but he'd done it. America flashed him a thumbs up and leaned in as well, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. Which immediately made both their faces turn a bright shade of red.

With a somewhat slap-happy smile, Britain allowed America to wrap his arms around him too, and then he turned to Germany, who found the scene amusing and touching. When England nodded to Italy, the larger nation blinked, then hesitantly leaned towards the group as well, pressing his lips to the top of the Italian's head and murmuring "I don't care what anyone else says, _Italia_, you are perfect."

* * *

**Whew :D Okay, so like Italy had a huge Death the Kid moment right there, huh? XD I'm so sad with this game. It basically declared the fate of my home teams, so...yea :/ America and Germany better not fail me, anyone else hoping they tie tomorrow? XD **

**ANYway, let's get down to business~ *Thinks of Mulan and starts laughing* Umm, so I'm thinking just for the sake of keeping up story-wise, I'll skip Germany's game tomorrow and go straight to USA vs Portugal, Italy vs Uruguay(In which I will repeatedly hate on Suarez, I mean no offense but that was stupid. If you don't know what I'm talking about, it's like all over the news, just look up 'Suarez biting' or something like that) and I'm actually thinking about writing France vs Ecuador :D I just finished watching it, it was cool X3 And then, the grand USA vs Germany~**

**Actually I meant to point that out; anyone who happens to stumble upon this story and root for the team who was depicted as the opposing side in a particular chapter, I am truly sorry. I mean no offence whatsoever, and I apologise if the setting is prejudiced(This is stressed towards StarryKite as well, I hope Chile goes on and does well, and my regards to your father :) I didn't mean to make it look like I was hating on them I promise XP I'm not like the Netherlands :D Also to anyone who for some reason likes commentators O.o XD) And I will try harder to make it not so.**

**It says like 750-something people have read this story and only nine people bother to tell me what you think XP Thanks guys~ Lol, jk! XD I really appreciate all of you :)**

**I believe for the very last chapter I have something going on in my mind that could be really great; what do you guys think of the last game being the nations teamed up and split in half to play? :D**

**And lastly, I hope you all enjoyed~ I might do like an intermission chapter of sorts where all the nations take a break in their hotel, yea? If I do, it'll probably just be like a humourous break, not stressing or anything. I'm sorry it takes so long to update, I'm a slow writer XP And on that bombshell, it's time to end(Anyone get that, huh? Anyone?) so I shall take my leave now. Ciao~ :D**

**~Fezzes64**


	6. USA vs Portugal

America didn't remember exactly when he'd finally turned in for the night; all he remembered was stumbling up the stairs and finding the room dark and full of sleeping forms. He could barely make it across the room; he was so exhausted from running around and playing soccer all night, so he settled for the first thing that made sense and tripped all the way to the couch, where he basically was out the moment his head hit a very small, very warm pillow.

It was a very upsetting night, plagued mostly with thoughts of England going away in the morning. Usually when a nation was eliminated in the Group Stage, like Australia and Spain, they would leave and go back home. America wished England would stay, especially since he didn't want the man to leave him now. Not when his team was doing really great, and...Well, let's just say that kiss that happened when he won against Ghana was no accident.

Finally, it was daytime.

He opened his eyes groggily to the sound of incessant shuffling of people getting up and ready and morning sunlight immediately invaded his eyesight. He gave a childish moan, shifting one arm further under his pillow and the other upwards, where he'd found something soft to curl his fingers through. He was just sort of staring at the back of the couch, inclined for some reason on top of something really warm, and he seemed to bob up and down slowly and steadily. It was an overall pleasant feeling, but he really just wanted to go back to sleep.

People in general throughout the room were preparing to leave for whichever stadium hosted the game they were going to watch, and their voices were soft and murmuring in consideration for those still out. It was nice, their tones made America sleepy anyway.

The American decided to shift his head because he could feel a crick in his neck. So he shifted to look up and...He froze.

The warm pillow he'd decided to sleep on through the night wasn't a pillow at all. It wasn't a blanket, either; it was a man. He didn't know why he'd thought so last night, but it was pretty funny to remember thinking England was a pillow, and he realised this with a small laugh. It finally made sense; the really soft thing was his hair. And his chest was that really small pillow. Seems legit.

Wow, he was so cute. His arms were pulled behind his head, and he faced upwards with his eyes closed serenely. He wore those collared mint-green pajamas like always, with the exception of a few buttons undone at the top, and there was no indication he'd noticed America's presence at all. The bobbing was his breathing, and America didn't seem to impede in this since he was inhaling and exhaling just fine, even with the weight on him.

With a dreamy grin, he made no move to relieve the Brit of his nightly burden and turned his head, falling asleep almost instantly once he hit the legit British pillow and smiling vaguely even in his slumber.

When he did eventually wake up again, it was to a soft yawn and quiet, stifled chuckling. He sighed deeply, knowing he would have to eventually get up with no time better than the present. But at his motion, he felt something combing through his hair that felt like fingers. He shuddered at the sudden tingling that ran down his scalp, but it felt nice so he closed his eyes again and rested his hands slightly above where his head was, clutching green fabric in his wake. Well, sleep.

The chuckling again. It wasn't rough, it was gentle, and for a moment America felt as if he were a child again, being cared for in his youthful innocence. He made a soft whining noise through his nose and lifted his head slightly, blinking unevenly.

He was met with an affectionate, magnificently green gaze.

Britain lay with only one arm behind his head now, and the other was over America's shoulders so he could fondle his hair. He was smiling that familiar smile of his, tilting his head slightly as he watched the younger nation with such a calm air about him that was just so...warm. America shook his head slightly to clear his cloudy mind and blinked a little more alertly, grinning sheepishly at the Englishman.

The man didn't seem to mind one bit.

He took a deep breath, making the larger nation rise and fall slightly. "So what gave you the brilliant idea of using me as a bed?" he asked amusedly, not sarcastically or angrily like he normally would have. This only made America blush .

"I, um…" he rested his chin on England's chest. "Uh...I thought you were a pillow." he mumbled all embarrassed-like, averting his gaze to the floor.

Britain smiled, trying not to laugh. He looked like he found this really adorable. "Is that so?" he asked gently, raising a brow. It was almost strange how at ease and pleasant he seemed, and America wasn't complaining. He hoped he would get to be this close to him more often.

"You…" he began, cutting his own speech off by shifting upwards slightly to a more comfortable position, where Britain caressed his fingers along his back. "You didn't leave…" he frowned, realising this and blinked a couple of times. "You're eliminated and you didn't leave." he got an upset look in his eyes; he'd wanted England to stay in the game.

"Did you want me to leave?" Britain asked, slightly confused. A little sad, if he were honest, at those words.

"N-no! No, of course not!" America exclaimed in alarm. "Not at all, I...It's the opposite, I _need_ for you to stay!" he nearly begged, sitting up and suddenly thinking England was going to leave anyway, that he'd only stayed this long to wish everyone good luck or something. Very gentleman-like. "You are going home, aren't you?" he whined with a small pout, suddenly very worried.

Britain moved his arm from the back of his head and shifted himself up on his elbows, reaching for America's glasses in the process, which had been placed on the table beside them. "America," he chuckled, petting his head as he slid the glasses on his face. "I'm not leaving." he smiled up at him earnestly and sincerely, with a little amusement due to his panicked reaction.

"...Oh." America blushed and lowered himself back down again. But with a small smile, he tipped his head up to press his face in to England's shoulder. "Sorry."

"For what?" Britain ruffled his hair with an inward chuckle.

America turned his head and kissed the Brit's cheek, laughing when he felt his face warm up. "Everything." he replied seriously, his voice muffled, and smiled sadly as he wrapped his arms around England.

**O~o~O**

"Whoa- O-oh no!" America whimpered. He watched Nani from Team Portugal race down the field with everyone jumping on him and pressed his fingers to his temples, stress making itself obvious in his face. Five minutes into the game and the US had already let their defenses down. He tried not to be discouraged, since his mood affected the way his team played sometimes, but he had a terrible feeling fate was coming back to haunt him after Ghana. "Not again…" he moaned, leaning on the arch.

England had gone to 'take care of something', he said, so America was standing alone in the doorway to the field, sighing deeply in worry. He hugged his arms to himself, his lip starting to hurt from biting on it. What if his team couldn't pull it together? What if he lost and got eliminated? What if once again, he would fail to get past Group Stage? Oh...He pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, wincing to himself.

He shared a desperate glance with Jones and Dempsey, two of his best players, and they looked about the same as he did. They all exchanged a nod, and the players turned and continued...er...playing. America could only wish the best for them, a little too despairing for his own good.

"Oh, _non!_ Poor _l'Amerique_!" said a voice behind him, making America start violently and almost scream.

He whirled around "GAH! Dude, don't sneak up on me like that! And bro, my name isn't 'Lamereek'." he pointed out, pouting at the Frenchmen before him.

France merely smiled and patted his back. "_désolé_," he apologised in a chuckle. "I just came to see how your game was going under _Monsieur_ England's request, and because I wanted to visit my favourite little American," he ruffled America's hair, finally earning a smile out of him. "I saw the score, but I'm still thinking your team will figure it out." he winked and turned his eyes towards the field. "I wouldn't worry, _mon petit chou_."

"Uh, okay. Whatever you say," America replied uncertainly. "Wait, Iggy told you to come?"

"_Oui_. I'm not sure why, but he was running around like a _poulet_ with it's head cut off looking for me. Then he ran off again, so I'm not sure what he's doing." France shrugged.

America frowned, looking away again. He wanted England back.

Just then, another voice made itself known. "Oh, my...Is it stirr one-to-naught? O-oh! G-gomenasai, America-san. I did not mean to startre you," Japan stepped forward, holding his camera a few inches below his face, as if he'd just been taking pictures like a tourist.

The larger nation took a big breath, trying to calm his galloping heart a second time. "I, uh, n-no, man, it's all good." he laughed nervously, which made the older nations exchange a glance.

France and Japan showed an interest in moving closer to see what was going on, so America led them towards the field while someone was being subbed in on from his team. He watched the fresh man run on with a sigh, blinking and crossing his arms, not noticing how increasingly depressed he looked.

He felt like he needed a hug, in all honesty. America would have asked Japan, but Italy had told him repeatedly of his past attempts concerning that and he figured it probably wouldn't end well. And then there was France, but even if he wouldn't admit it, he was a bit scared of trying that. Not because he was afraid the other man was a pervert or something and would take it elsewhere, but because he was an older man and America really didn't know if it was alright or not. It was sort of like a child being afraid of going up to an adult they didn't know or didn't remember seeing.

America eventually settled on staring sadly at the ground.

France noticed this after yelling something in French at the game, and he blinked. "Hey, America, are you alright?" he tilted his head, his eyes softening a little. But he seemed to know why, and tried to hide a smile. Then again, he knew the nation since he was little. "Mm. You are such a cute little nation, you know that?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Hmm?" America asked, looking up and frowning. He didn't appear to understand and looked at France with childish confusion.

The Frenchman shook his head and chuckled. "Poor little America," he said simply, and wrapped the younger man into an embrace. "No worries, he'll be back soon. Don't fret, _mon cher_."

**O~o~O**

It was finally a little after halftime and Britain still hadn't returned. The score had remained one-to-nothing, so America hadn't yet stopped fretting, much to France's concern. He had sat down, stood up, ran out onto the field for no particular reason, got yelled at by the ref, and pouted by the fourth wall for a while, before finally watching the game again. Then he would lay down, or run around making airplane noises, but nothing really helped.

At least, not until a group of people approached.

Japan and France glanced up first, noticing the group before America. They grinned towards each other, to the American, then back at the people coming closer, surprised America was ignoring them.

"Quickly! Quickly now, we're almost too late!" shouted a familiar voice, and finally all three nations looked up with a smile, the former two with knowing faces, the latter with rejoice. The rest of the former Axis and Allies, all their friends, approached. "Minute sixty-four! Here it is!" England, who was sprinting towards him with everyone else behind, immediately dropped and slid on his knees the rest of the way to a startled America, covering his ears. "Look! Watch!" he implored.

The US was making a play, and all at once, before he could even process it, Jones made a move and scored. America winced as suddenly, most of the entire stadium burst into cheers, almost deafening. Then it finally registered.

"Oh...OH MY GOD JONES YES!" he shrieked with a barely believing smile, his hands on his head in shock. "HE- WHAT- IT'S TIED- OH MAH- THIS IS-" his thoughts all blended together and he abruptly stood, having to pause catch his breath and grin wildly. This was almost too much.

"HAHA! I KNEW IT!" Britain yelled at the same time, jumping up onto America's back in his excitement and throwing his fist in the air. "BLOODY COMMENTATORS CAN'T FOOL ME, AMERICA IS IN IT TO WIN IT!" he declared, almost losing his balance when America stumbled.

"DUDE THIS IS FRIGGIN' AMAZING HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN CAN YOU LIKE PREDICT THE FUTURE OR SOMETHING BECAUSE THAT WAS REALLY COOL!" America looked up at the Brit with wide, admiring eyes and a huge smile. "WOW MAN YOU ARE SO AWESOME!"

"And you better not forget it~" England teased, grinning back down at him and tickling the American's chin. "Now, now, Your team isn't done quite yet. Let's watch."

"Yes sir!" America replied eagerly, hoisting Britain a little further up on his back and stepping forward a few steps to see the rest of the game. He couldn't help the curve in his lips, unable to frown or make any sort of neutral expression. The whole situation was just too unbelievable for him to handle.

"Brilliant. Just utterly, bloody brilliant." England murmured pleasantly in his ear. "There's no way you're losing now."

**O~o~O**

"BRO WE TOTALLY GOT THIS IN THE SACK MAN THERE'S LIKE TOTALLY NO WAY THEY CAN COME BACK IT'S THE LAST MINUTE OF THE GAME- AW CRAP HE JUST SCORED." America's face fell and he watched Howard, the goalkeeper, rant and be angry basically, as the score was once again tied.

"Well I said you wouldn't lose…" Britain said thoughtfully, sliding off America's back and crossing his arms. "Maybe I jinxed it." he pouted and sighed, looking up at America apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Aw, no dude it's all good. Tie's better 'n nothing." The younger nation assured him, patting his shoulder. "Besides, I have the best person in the world here to support me!" he announced proudly.

"Really? Who?" England looked around confusedly.

"You, ya big dork," America replied, laughing, and whirling the Brit around to press their lips together.

* * *

**XD Alright so like the second half of this I wrote while watching the Lego Movie, don't judge me XD That is, it explains the randomness I think XP Right-o! I'm falling behind XP I need to get it together, sorry :P Lol this was fun though~ Next chapter is Italy vs Uruguay~ And then POSSIBLY France vs Ecuador, and then USA vs Germany :D Can't wait~ Hope you lot enjoyed ^^ (Pfft this chapter was so totally gay XD THAT WORD IS NOT OFFENSIVE THE WORD GAY IS UTTERLY BEAUTIFUL)**

****_Mon petit chou_ literally means my little cabbage XD SO DONE WITH FRANCE XD**

**~Fezzes64**


	7. Italy vs Uruguay

"Oof!" Germany winced, blinking himself awake and glancing downwards in alarm, already knowing what had aroused him but looking surprised nevertheless. He sighed, trying to calm his thundering heart since the breath had been knocked out of him as well as his sleep. "Urgh...What…?"

"Ve…" whimpered a small voice next to him, which didn't really surprise him. The little Italian had a habit of going to Germany in nearly any situation.

The larger man took a big breath. "Italy," he said quietly.

"Mm?"

"It is two in the morning."

"...Oh."

"Go to sleep."

"O-okay." Italy obediently curled up into the German, making him groan inwardly. He'd meant Italy to go back to his own bed, but this wasn't completely new to him, so he could deal with it. With a big breath, he reluctantly pulled his arm underneath the Italian to let him press even closer. Eventually, after a while of lying awake in silence, listening to the other breathing lulled them both to deep sleep.

**O~o~O**

Italy would not sit still.

Or stop fidgeting, or twitching, or wringing his hands, or biting his lower lip, or sighing, or whining, or worrying. Anyone else by now would have lost patience and perhaps even a bit more than that, but not Germany. Nope, he was used to this sort of thing. But that didn't keep the German from scolding him repeatedly, telling him to calm down or he would pull him out of the stadium and make him run laps around the city. His threats would silence Italy for a while, but not for that long. Germany counted on his calming down when they finally found the other people they were going to be with and got down to the field.

It'd been a while, though. And the pair still hadn't found anyone they knew, even when Italy walked backwards to see everyone's faces, or jumped on Germany's back to be a better view.

"Italy, I don't think we'll find anyone quite yet. Do you want to go ahead and just go down to the field?" Germany finally asked, after circling the exterior of the stadium for the seventh time. He turned his gaze to an anxious Italian, sighing when he didn't even pay attention. He was looking around with stressed and distraught eyes, probably not even hearing the German.

"_Italy_." Germany repeated. He growled when he was again tuned out and resorted to just grabbing the Italian's hand and dragging him back the way they'd come, through the stadium towards the arch.

"Wah! Germany, what are you doing?!" Italy finally realised what was happening and panicked, halfheartedly trying to pull back but to no avail. He was finally forced to jog up next to the taller man just to match his brisk stride and watched him with high agitation. "V-ve! G-Germany-?"

"We're going to the field," Germany snapped, glaring at him. "If you'd listen and stop agonising for just a second maybe you would have known by now. Come on!" he yanked the man to make him keep up. "Look; regardless of what we do we will still have everyone there. Stop being so nervous, alright?" his eyes and tone softened as the yelling only made tears well up in the Italian's eyes, and he tried not to cry but he just kept breaking down.

"Ugh, _Italia_…" Germany murmured, half in annoyance and half in sympathy. He stopped walking and let Italy tentatively walk into him for a hug, which he probably really needed. The man gratefully accepted when Germany pulled him closer to hide his tears from prying eyes throughout the crowd. "I am trying to tell you, if you worry nothing good will come of it." he rebuked softly. "You will be fine."

**O~o~O**

"For the love of football, finally," Germany mumbled to himself when Romano appeared in his line of sight, as well as Spain(Who stayed, yay! :D), Japan, and Greece. The group of four approached, the latter three chatting amongst each other and looking somewhat excited for the game. Romano looked about as sombre as Italy did. Germany stopped pacing for a moment to acknowledge them gladly, almost relieved, then continued walking back and forth, staring at the field the entire time.

Italy, however, sat down cross-legged on the grass and was mumbling the Italian national anthem as it played under his breath, not loudly and proudly like he normally would in previous games. He noticed his friends coming and paused to look at them before looking back towards the field. He appeared a little too upset to smile.

"Oh...Is Italy alright?" Greece asked softly, glancing at him, and then looking at Germany and Japan unsurely. "If only I'd brought one of my cats to cheer him up…"

"Aww, poor little Italy!" Spain immediately ran over and gave Italy a hug, trying to make him smile by making goofy faces. "It's alright, Feli, big brother's here! Why is little Italy so sad, huh?" he crooned, cradling Italy's head and pinching his cheeks.

Italy didn't respond, still staring with dulled eyes at his team. This was everyone else's cue to come over as well, worry creasing their faces when Italy sighed mutedly and closed his eyes with lacklustre instead of dreamily, like he normally would. Romano knelt on his other side and pressed his cheek into his younger brother's shoulder, making a similar expression.

"Oh, you too...Feli, Lovi, it's alright!" Spain tried to assure them both, shifting behind them to give the brothers something to lean against. "_Lo siento, __mi pequeño tomates_," he murmured to them.

"_Italia_…" Germany sighed, deciding he should probably sit down with them too. Japan sat down a small distance away, and Greece with him, both smiling at the four.

**O~o~O**

"THAT WAS NOT A RED CARD!" Italy and Romano shrieked at the same time, in perfect unison with each other. "A YELLOW CARD AT MOST, THAT WAS COMPLETELY UNCALLED FOR!"

Marchisio, the player who was called out, glanced at them hopelessly, looking apologetic even though he had no reason to be. The referee just waved the red-coloured rectangle in his face, and he was forced to leave the field, rendering the Italian team only able to play with ten men.

"Well, it's not like your team isn't used to playing with only ten people," Germany commented quietly, standing next to the Northern brother. "Although that did not look worthy of a red card. I do not think the ref is being fair on that call." he frowned and crossed his arms, shifting from one foot to the next.

"Veee~..." Italy whined in agreement, his anger blown out temporarily. He clutched Germany's arm and bit his lip, looking really upset.

After a while more of watching the game, and fuming over another yellow card given to his team, Italy spoke again. "Ve, um, Germany?" he asked innocently, looking up at him with worrying eyes. "D-do you think England is angry with me? I eliminated him, and he really loves being here, so I ruined his chances…" he mused, but then started thinking too hard about it. "And I really like being friends with him, but what if he's just hiding his hate for me?! What if he's just pretending it's alright when I'm around?! What if I'm not friends with him anymore?!" he suddenly got hysterical and seemed like he was about to start sobbing.

"Wha-?! _N-nien_, _Italien_, it is nothing of the sort!" Germany insisted quickly, reaching out to calm him down. "Why would you think such a thing?!"

"Mmm? Italy, what are you _preocupándose_ about now?" Spain looked over and dragged Romano with him towards. "Eh, eh, England doesn't hate you! And your team was _muy excelente_, there was nothing you could do! Yea?" he squeezed his shoulders and grinned at him.

"Why are you so stupid _fratello_, Britain isn't that dumb, and if he was I would beat him even senselesser." Romano grumbled, pouting and glowering at the field.

"Hey! That's my line!" Germany snapped.

"_Hai_...Itary-Chan, Engrand-San is not rikery to hate you; he doesn't rearry hate anyone in particurar. He's just very _tsundere_, you see."

"Sun-der-a?" Italy asked, finally pausing the waterfall of tears that had erupted from his eyes.

"Yea...It just means he gets annoyed and angry and embarrassed and flustered very easily." Greece explained slowly, looking up dreamily at the clouds.

"Who gets annoyed and angry and embarrassed and flustered very easily?" questioned a voice behind them.

Everyone turned around and jumped, coming face-to face with a very stern-faced England, who no one had heard approach, along with an exuberant American beside him. They all blinked, looked at each other, and simultaneously tried to launch into different explanations with different stories and random clarifications.

"We were actually talking about Germany-"

"_Ja, ja_, that's totally what it was-"

"...And that's how tomatoes are born!"

"Ve, it was the ref! All the referee's fault!"

"Cheh, he called it on that guy, and-!"

"Pfft, haha!" everyone froze and turned slowly to him, realising the Brit was laughing and not yelling at them. "Y-you guys, hahaha!"

"B-Britain…" Italy calmed down suddenly. "I-I thought your team was playing your last game right now!"

"Oh, yes, of course, but I decided to watch your game instead." England smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

**O~o~O**

The whole stadium was screaming, and in a flash, both Italy and Romano sprinted desperately onto the field.

Everyone else was wide-eyed in shock as the two leapt into the group of shrieking Uruguayans and Italians, and proceeded to yell at the ref and the man in question, the star of the opposing team. No one was really surprised with Romano, but to see both the brothers sharing such a mutual, fierce anger...It was just shocking. It looked like the Northern side was doing most of the talking, furiously lecturing the referee and gesturing to his poor player, Chiellini. Romano was having a flat-out argument with Uruguay, the nation.

"...Hm. So he's feistier than we all thought. I wish you luck, _mi amigo_." Spain murmured off to the side to Germany, winking at him.

"...Huh?" Germany asked loudly, taken aback. "Wh...What are you saying?" he asked nervously, a strange idea forming in his head. He was unable to stifle the blush when Spain glanced over at him and smirked, not in a bad way, but...Earnestly.

"You'll know." he said smoothly, grinning to himself.

"...Ah."

"Oi! Germany, Spain! Let's go! Come on!" Britain interjected suddenly, giving them a nudge towards the field. "The ref is going to red-card your little crushes if we don't hurry! Quickly now!" He ran towards the chaos, latching onto Germany and Spain's arms. America didn't hesitate and ran after them as well, along with a concerned Japan and a worried Greece.

"W-w-wait!" Germany cried out as he was dragged out towards the group of bellowing footballers. "I have know idea what you are thinking, but Italy is _not_ my crush-!" he tried to insist.

"Romano, Romano, _mi tomate_, come here!" Spain called, immediately taking the Southern Italian by the shoulders and apologising to Uruguay. England was trying to break up a group of Uruguayans surrounding Chiellini, while Japan and Greece tried to help him.

Germany figured he should probably get Italy, who was still angrily addressing the referee. He bristled when the man shook his head, and gestured furiously to Suárez and Chiellini repeatedly before the German came and interrupted, casting a glance at the ref.

"Italy, Italy, there's nothing you can do, come on." he tugged on his arm. "I'm sorry, Italy. Let's go."

**O~o~O**

It was over, Team Italy was eliminated. It was quite depressing; when the ref refused to give out a red card to Suárez, there was a corner and in a flash Uruguay kicked it in and the whole game changed. When Italy had one last chance to score, even the goalie came down to help out. But even with this effort, everything was in vain.

Italy and Romano sat side-by-side by the line, and were mute. The team that had been defending champion in Africa was taken out in Brazil in group stage, and there was nothing anyone could do to make it better.

"Oh, Italy…" Britain sighed sadly, his face creasing with sympathy.

"Dude...This sucks!" America whined, resting his chin on England's shoulder. "I feel ya Mario bros, I'm sorry for y'all."

"_Hai_, I do not think you deserve to lose." Japan agreed with America. Greece nodded as well, and looked downwards dejectedly.

Germany and Spain shared a glance, then lowered their heads to acknowledge Italy's loss. Spain had already been eliminated, but Germany gritted his teeth. _It's up to me now_, he thought. _I have to go on and do good for Italy, Romano, and Spain. Just like America with England, and I will do the same. Both he and I will make the best of our place and go on for the people we care about. I am now playing for Italy._

* * *

**Veee XP Late update, sorry, I'm going through a block -o- it's very dull~ Yay for dull~ Anyways, so yep, both my home teams are out, and I am relying on Germany and America to do well! I'm watching France vs Nigeria right now, those Frenchies are so fabulous! XD There's this one guy...I think his name is Griezmann, and he's not playing right now(49'(That means minute 49 in the game)) but he's a forward and his hair...It's so amazing XD I don't know, but the French team is quite French indeed XD So, lol, what's up with you guys? Anyone looking forward to Germany vs Algeria later today? Oh! Or USA vs Belgium tomorrow? :DD If I'm honest I'm worried about that game; Belgium is really _really_ good ^^' So yas, much worry, much angst, and NOO JAPAN AND GREECE ARE ELIMINATED TO SO IN THIS LITTLE GROUP IT LITERALLY IS ONLY GERMANY AND USA D: Either France vs Ecuador or Germany vs USA next! And then Germany vs Algeria, and USA vs Belgium :P Any other games you would like me to write, 'cause once I catch up and/or my teams get eliminated, I will have nothing else to do XP**

**~Fezzes64**


	8. Germany vs USA

"Duuude! Iggy, bro, you have to help me out here!" America whined. "It's a most bogus, heinous, most non-triumphant turn of events, and I require your most needed assistance!" he said in the most surfer-dude accent he could muster.

He pouted when the Englishman remained asleep on the bed, giving no sign of awakening at all. The man took up nearly the entire mattress; he was sprawled out as if he'd tripped right to sleep and then rolled over, half his torso hanging off the edge and the rest of him flung out at random. He looked really silly, in all honesty, and because of his lack of consciousness, America was forced to move to last resort.

"BACON TOOOSS!" he cried loudly, backing up for a running start, then leaping up into the air and landing flat on top of the Brit.

"WAAAAAAHHH!" England shrieked, jerking up in alarm and trying to jump up. "AHHHAHAAAH! YOU BARMY CHAV! YOU MANKY GORMLESS NAFFY WAZZOCK, YOU NINNY, AIRY-FAIRY DAFT CHUFFER-NUMPTIE! ARE YOU BLOODY MAD?!" he screeched, somehow managing to squirm out from underneath the American and flop right onto the floor, where he scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off, planting his hands on his hips. He seemed to finally regain his composure. "Git, what the hell was that for?!" he demanded, glowering indignantly at America.

In answer, the younger nation flipped onto his back and grinned at the now upside down posh Englishman, who, mind you, he couldn't take seriously in those ridiculous green pajamas. "Wow dude, you really aren't a morning person!" he responded and snickered at the flushed red frown of Britain.

"Good God, you're worse than that cheese-eating surrender monkey!" He growled, referring to France. His voice quieted suddenly when he realised there were many other nations still sleeping in the room. "_What need have you to wake me up at this hour?!_" he whisper-yelled.

"Dude!" America laughed, obnoxiously loud. "Ya have to help me out, my game vs Germany is today!"

**O~o~O**

"Ve ve Germany~ Germany wake up~!" sang a happy voice, gently shaking the said man's shoulders. "Germanyyy! Hello~?

Italy pouted when the bigger nation let out a deep sigh in his slumber, and continued sleeping quite happily. Well, as happy as a German can be, anyway. It was very upsetting for the Italian, however, and he hopped up onto the bed. He crawled forward, and poked Germany's cheek a couple of times before whining out loud.

"Ve…" he whimpered, then sighed as well and stood up on the mattress. "VE VE GERMANY YOU KNOW WHAT YOU SHOULD DO YOU SHOULD WAKE UP SO YOU'RE NOT LATE TO YOUR GAME TODAY YOU HAVE TO PLAY AMERICA, REMEMBER, VE?!" he yelled really loudly, jumping up and down on the bed and waving his hands in the air. Like he just didn't care.

...Nothing. Germany groaned a little but didn't wake. This frustrated Italy and he pouted sternly, standing above the German with his arms crossed. "Hmmm," he hummed in disappointment. He was ignorant to the few remaining nations in the room who gave him weird looks and carefully prodded the man before him with his foot. "Come on, Germany, you can't miss an important day like this! Are you sick or something because usually you're the one waking me up!" He gasped as he realised this as a possibility and immediately bounced off the bed and ran to the huge, luxurious bathroom attached to the room.

He grabbed a soft white washcloth and dampened it swiftly under the sink, and then squeezed it out before bounding back into the room and almost tripping to Germany's side. He greeted the other nations with a smile as if just noticing them, then placed the cloth on the German's forehead and carefully pressed the back of his hand to the other's cheek. "Ve~ Well, you don't have a fever…" he murmured, frowning and poking the bigger man's nose. "Why won't you wake up? Are you having super angry German dreams?"

Italy then moved up and tried bouncing on the bed again, yelling, shaking his shoulders, blowing a horn, getting everyone in the room to yell 'PASTA', playing loud music, and thumping his head repeatedly on the bed. Nothing worked.

"Ve...Germany…" he whined quietly, eventually just sitting down in a chair next to the bed and resting his cheek on the other's chest, facing the opposite wall. No one else was in the room; they'd all left to meet others or have breakfast down in the lobby. It was too early for games yet, but it wasn't impossible to be late either.

He jumped when suddenly there was a weight on the top of his head, and opened his mouth to say something in alarm until he realised it was just Germany's hand. He felt his strong fingers gently curl through his hair, and then his chest hummed when he chuckled since Italy's ear was pressed right up to him.

"Italy, what are you doing?" he asked with tired amusement, and even if it was very small, Italy could hear the smile in his voice.

"Trying to wake you, you sleep like a lumpy log," the Italian mumbled in reply, giggling a little bit like a child trying not to. "Today is very important."

**O~o~O**

"So what exactly do you plan on doing this early? There's almost no one around," Britain nearly had to jog to keep up with America, blinking in surprise when his accented voice echoed through the hall and amplified slightly.

America grinned brightly and teasingly bumped the Brit with his shoulder as he cheerfully skipped along. "I'm gonna get here before Germany so I can be on my game for when he wakes up! Once we're at the field we can play around for awhile until everything starts happening, doesn't that sound fun?" he looked excitedly at the Brit.

"Oh, is that why I'm wearing my uniform, then?" Britain mumbled off to the side, tugging at his jersey. "Why, exactly? All you're going to do is wear yourself out. And then your team won't perform at their best." he commented, glancing with lowered eyelids at him.

"Becaaauuussseee," replied the American, dragging out the word. "I wanna play! And it'll be fun!"

England sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He had to admit, he found America's childishness very endearing and difficult to resist, in a manner of speaking. He convinced himself he had nothing better to do anyway, so he followed the American down the ramp and across the lower level, eventually getting to the arch.

America took one step towards the field, and then immediately raced back through the arch with the Brit. "Nope, nevermind," he said quickly, hugging his arms and hiding behind England. "It's raining, we can't do it," he shivered, making that adorable little pout of his.

"Pfft, rain's stopping you?" Britain scoffed, pushing past him and jogging out in the glory, basically his home. He glanced back, seemingly in slow motion, with his now wet bangs flipping across his face. An exhilarated grin dominated his expression, and as he began to get soaked, he swept up a football and began dribbling it towards the field.

America's jaw dropped, entranced at the scene before him; as the Englishman bounded infield, his now wet bronze-blonde locks followed with every stride, flinging droplets of water everywhere in his wake. His white jersey began to stick to his torso, and the way the dulled light shined made it look like little silver veins embedded in his skin. The American was hypnotised, until two emeralds met with his eyes and he snapped out of it.

"Oh, uh...Right!" he said, quickly racing out towards the pure platinum pirate, who practically gleamed in the rain as he bounced the ball repeatedly in the air.

"Well, are we playing or not?" he asked, as America simply stared with a mesmerised look at him. He smiled a little wryly when the younger man shook his head slightly as if trying to clear his mind and nod a little. America jumped slightly when the Brit bounced the ball to him. "Then let's go."

**O~o~O**

All Germany and Italy heard as they entered the stadium was random groups of girls giggling over 'two cute blonde men panting, soaking wet in the middle of the field next to each other' before the officials chased them off, and Germany had the feeling he knew exactly who the two were.

He led Italy on for a while, looking around absentmindedly and making the smaller nation happy by buying him a little German flag to wave around. He circled a little pointlessly until he could hear the announcements for the national anthems and finally made it back around towards the arch, where he had to fight his way through a thick crowd of fans to get through. Italy eventually had to jump on his back just to keep from getting pulled away, and giggled in Germany's ear the entire time until they got to the field.

He collided with someone running towards him, and with the weight on his back he stumbled and nearly lost his balance. Germany realised now his whole front side was really wet now, and that was the rush of cold air that made goosebumps rise on his pale skin. He struggled to stay standing, and raised his eyes to glare at the assailant.

"W-whoah, dude, sorry bro," America stumbled backwards a lot further than the German and almost knocked England over. "Haha, well man, you don't have to worry about adjusting outside, right?" he laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head when Germany didn't waver. "Uhh, right?"

America paled when Germany calmly pulled out an umbrella from behind him and let out a stiff breath, pursing his lips. "...Oh." the American said.

Germany rolled his eyes. "Nevermind. Italy, you hold this," he pushed the little switch and let the umbrella flare out before handing it up to Italy, who seemed extremely happy to help. After all, now he got to wave a German flag and keep them dry...mostly. "Let's go, the game is about to start.

**O~o~O**

It was lucky it was a big umbrella.

Germany stood underneath it while still carrying Italy, who did a decent job of keeping the rain away by holding it low, like a hat. England stood to his right, shivering, and America sort of behind him, standing close to keep warm. Italy was kind enough to lend his jacket since he wasn't all that wet and America wore it for a while, under Britain's insistence that he didn't need it.

"You guys are idiots," Germany mumbled after a while, not because he was annoyed with having to share the umbrella, but because, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was worried they'd get sick or something, get a cold.

Britain sighed with a slightly amused chuckle. "Hehe, oh, I know." he said, and glanced at Germany with smiling eyes. "But everyone needs to be a fool every once in a while."

On that note, they all turned and watched as the Americans made a run towards scoring, but one of the German team members intercepted a pass and took it down the other side of the field. America tried to stifle it, but everyone heard him let out a soft noise of disappointment. Germany frowned as well.

"If I'm honest, I don't really want to win." he said after a while.

"Huh?" America asked, alarmed.

Germany smiled wryly and looked at him. "I'd rather go through to the round of sixteen with someone I know well, as opposed to the others in the group." his brow twitched when he realised how strange that sounded and he looked away, seeking to avoid attention. England's eyes twinkled with amusement, and Italy grinned happily as America looked flattered.

"Oh...D-dude, I didn't know you thought of it that way...I-I guess we have to do our best to hope, huh?" he blinked and nudged the German slightly. "How about we both advance?"

"Mm." Germany hummed in agreement, flashing a small, rare genuine smile.

**O~o~O**

"Dude, I don't care what you say, it was still pretty awesome!" America commented, patting Germany's back. "It's alright, bro, my team still has time, if you're so adamant on tieing. But that goal you got was so cool!"

Germany shook his head. "_Ja_, I know, but it's not likely now…" he glowered at the game and gritted his teeth slightly, trailing off in thought.

Just then Britain looked towards the American coaches who appeared excited about something. He carefully stepped forward, making sure it still wasn't raining(He'd dried off a bit by then) and cast a quick "be right back" behind him before racing down towards where the officials were quite speedily.

The three nations watched as he consulted with them, and Italy reluctantly lowered the umbrella, seeing as it was pointless to have it anymore. America tried repeatedly to score, but the Germans did a pretty great job of holding them off. Up until it was close to the end, and both America and Germany winced at every attempt to score on either side. It just went back and forth, the Americans challenging and almost getting red cards, and the Germans nearly losing their lead by taking it easy.

That was when England came sprinting back, his face extremely excited. He almost had to circle his arms to slow down when he approached and nearly leapt into America's arms. "It doesn't matter!" he said, panting through his words and making it difficult to understand, "I-it doesn't matter! If the score stays the same, you both still advance!"

With just a glance, and a shared grin between all of them, they celebrated before the game even ended, and once the final whistle blew, even the stadium's screams couldn't down their happiness. Even if Italy and England were eliminated, they still retained enough spirit in them to act as if it was their own victory. In a way, it was.

* * *

**Ugh -_- Laaate, I'm so late XP I'm working on it, I promise. But America is eliminated now, and even though Germany is still in, if he doesn't pull through I'm afraid I won't be able to add another chapter because everyone else I was going for is out, too. If you guys want me to write out the final game, I will :D Coming up is USA vs Belgium(D':), and then Germany vs France. If Germany doesn't go on, I will have nothing to add except for the nation game after the World Cup ends, so...if there's another game that either I didn't write or that is coming up and you would like to see, please let me know :) Even if it's a nation who doesn't have a specific character, I'll make one up. I'm actually watching the Dead, White, and Blue marathon, is anyone else? :D Walking Dead is pretty cool CX Sooo, see ya next time~**

**~Fezzes64**


	9. USA vs Belgium

"A-America! Hey, America!" called a rather high-pitched voice, seeming jovial and upbeat. "_Herr_ America, over here!"

America stopped and frowned, not recognising who was calling. He was just slightly annoyed, only because he was looking for England and he didn't want to be interrupted. "I, uh, what?" he turned around a little dumbly, and was faced with a smiling blonde green-eyed girl with Romano and Spain in tow a few feet away. "Oh! Heya, Belgium!" he grinned nervously and waved at the nation who happily bounded towards him.

"America! I'm so happy to see you, the game's going to be just great, _ja_?" she asked, her eyes glittering with excitement. But he didn't think hers were as pretty as Britain's. "_Messieurs _Romano and Spain said they wanted to come see our game today! _Herrs_ Italy and Germany said they might show up as well. It'll be fun to have everyone watching, _oui_?" she commented pleasantly, signaling for him to keep walking by skipping up beside him and letting Spain and Romano flank his other side.

Belgium's enthusiasm didn't ease America's anxiety.

He strode stiffly along, sighing repeatedly and rubbing his palms on his jersey because they kept getting sweaty. Nervous blue eyes glance around like a paranoid, and unsettled hands wouldn't stop wringing themselves. Next to him, Romano kept talking to Spain in, well, Spanish, because he knew the language, and Spain happily chirped back a conversation to him. America only understood a little bit of it, but he wasn't really listening anyway. But he did hear lots of '_tomates_' and '_amores'_ so, he could guess what they were doing.

He sighed, thinking of teasing England like that. If only he'd stop disappearing on him. To distract himself, he tried to think of the corniest pick-up lines ever that usually made him laugh, or that would make Britain blush and demand of him why he would ask such a thing or come back with another one. But he himself would only laugh more. He smiled for a brief moment.

"So how do you feel about the game today, _meneer_ America?" Belgium asked cutely, startling him out of his thoughts. She blinked innocently at him with a small smile, and he took a moment to process it.

"I, uh...I-it should be fun?" he offered weakly, not wanting to admit he was scared. "It should be a good match-up, right?" he grinned half-heartedly. And a little distractedly; most everyone knew he was frequently clouded with thoughts of England when he wasn't around, well, those at the world cup, anyway.

"Oh, _ja!_ Both our teams are really good!" Belgium agreed immediately, seeming pleased with his answer. They walked in silence before she spoke again. "Say, isn't that _Herr _England over there?" she suddenly directed her attention up ahead and creased her brows, trying to confirm it.

"What?! Where?!" America perked up like a puppy, attentively looking in the same direction. He looked ahead as well and noticed a rather attractive young-looking blonde man from behind. A wolfish gleam lit up his eyes. "Hang on a sec," he told Belgium, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I gotta do something."

He sped up a little bit but quieted his footsteps. The man was standing in a group of a couple of other people that looked and sounded like other Brits, maybe they were coaches or commentators? He didn't know. But he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling too widely as he snuck up on the man. The others seemed to know what he was doing because they paid him no mind and gave him the perfect element of surprise.

England was speaking very seriously to them, probably about the English team for next world cup. "...So I think we should let Mr. Rooney choose who's going to be-"

"You know what my doctor told me the other day? I'm lacking Vitamin U." America murmured seductively in his ear, just barely resting his chin on England's shoulder.

Britain started violently and let out a weird cry, which made the group of gentlemen before him chuckle in amusement. "A-Ahh! America!" he scolded, whirling around with an alarmed expression. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?! Don't sneak up on me like tha-"

"Your doctor told me you were lacking Vitamin Me." America continued with an unwavering grin, finding the smaller nation quite funny. "Isn't that such a coincidence?"

"Really now, America, come off it!" England blushed angrily, unable to stop his reaction despite probably having knowing this would happen. He peered around the American to see the group waiting for them, and hesitantly glanced back at his own group. "You know I get startled easily! Don't do that!"

"I know, but it's so cute when you're startled!" America replied, reaching up to squeeze the tendons in the Brit's shoulders, since he knew he was ticklish there, and earned a half-hearted smack. "Besides, I was looking for ya, 'cause I can't go down to the game without my most best-est, favourite-est, cutest Englishma-"

England quickly turned around. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." he told the others with a stiff smile, and then spun again and swiftly passed America, just brushing him stubbornly with his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful you made me forget my pick up line," he whispered in the taller nation's ear, a small, teasing smile dancing across his lips out of everyone else's sight.

**O~o~O**

Once they got down to the hall that led through the arch, the pick-up line game continued, much to the amusement of the three third-wheels. America mostly used ones he'd read up on or used before, but England was clever enough to at least make some up that alluded to the nation himself. It was kind of a game to tease the other, and it was funny when the others added their own little versions.

Then it was everyone one-upping the other, coming up with cornier and funnier and cuter ones, up until they passed through the arch. Everyone was silent for a moment, but then America's eyes lit up and he looked excitedly towards Britain.

"Is your name Arthur?" He struggled to stifle his giggling when everyone else blinked dubiously at him but Britain just looked straight ahead, even though he was confused.

"Yes." England replied skeptically, frowning but not quite catching his gaze. He apparently hadn't heard this one before. "Why?"

"'Cause baby, ya rock me like a hurricane!" America announced loudly to everyone around him. It must've been the corniest thing in the world because Britain looked at him in shock and everyone in the immediate vicinity started laughing at the joke if they got it.

No one could come up with anything to say to that. "I think you win this round, _mi amigo_," Spain laughed, pointing gleefully at the Brit, who was blushing darkly and holding a fist to his mouth, glaring at America. "You have my respect for that one!"

America just laughed and moved through the arch with the angry Englishman, leading him along with an arm around his shoulders. "Aw, sweetheart, you're just jealous 'cause I've never outplayed you!" he teased, reaching over to pinch the other's cheek, only to get his hand waved away.

"I hate to admit it, but he did win that one," Romano pointed out, being nudged along by Spain and having to dodge the Spaniard's repeated attempts at landing a kiss on his cheek.

Belgium nodded eagerly. "_Ja_ he totally got you there," she giggled. "You two make such a cute couple!"

England sputtered for a moment, his stare falling to her with shock, and everyone else minus Romano burst out laughing at him. Especially America, he was literally hanging off his shoulder cracking up. "_Herr_ England, why so embarrassed?" Belgium teased, ruffling his dandelion-blonde hair. "It's true~!"

Britain growled as they took great amusement in his reaction and suddenly yanked America closer. He murmured something darkly in his ear, accenting his words carefully so the younger nation definitely heard, and once he was done he turned heel and marched furiously towards the field.

America's face flushed a bright red.

"What? What is it? What did he say?" Spain asked excitedly, grinning maniacally at the American, and Belgium nodded in agreement. Even Romano quirked a brow in interest, but he didn't say anything, probably trying to be cool about it. The three were eager to know the answer, since the usually dense American didn't blush so easily.

"I...Umm…" he began shyly, taking a big breath to calm himself and glancing off to the side to avoid their pressing looks. "H-he said tonight…Tonight he's going to make me see Stars and Stripes…" he coughed awkwardly as his face turned fifty shades redder than it was, and it immediately made the others burst out into laughter.

"Pfft, I think he got you there!" Romano giggled, but tried to hide it with a hand over his mouth. "I didn't know the Tea-Jerk had it in him!"

"I agree, America can't beat that one!" Spain patted his shoulder and chuckled at the patriot's expression. "Wow, I thought it was only possible for your flag's red stripes to be that shade of colour!"

"Sh-shut up!" America said in embarrassment.

**O~o~O**

"Oh dear..._l'Amerique_, is one of us going to score, or…?" Belgium sighed after the halftime whistle blew and ran her fingers through her hair. "The tension is making me very nervous."

"I don't think he can answer right now," England replied for him while wincing, struggling with the said man hiding his face in the shorter nation's shoulder. "But he's very nervous as well, I promise you that."

Romano rolled his eyes. "Britain, if you let him do that he'll just keep bugging you. You should tell him not to."

"Mm…" England looked back at the Italian with a knowing smile, the wind dramatically blowing his hair around. Spain winked at him before he continued. "I guess you don't know what it's like yet, Romano. But you'll learn." he chuckled, stroking the American's hair. "He's not bothering me, not at all."

Spain grinned and took that as a cue to fling his arms around Romano, ignoring his protests and trying to cuddle up with him as well. No one seemed to notice Belgium, who was furiously having to stifle her giggles. "See Romano, it's not so bad~!" Spain laughed, talking over the Italian's yelling.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU STUPID SPANIARD, GET THE HELL OFF ME-"

"Romano," England chuckled, and his amusement immediately put a cork on the shouting. "Just relax, yelling doesn't do anything."

"Says you," America mumbled into his shirt.

Everyone laughed at that.

"Ciao, guys!" announced a pleasantly sanguine voice from behind, ringing familiar. "Oh, I was worried we'd come to the wrong side of the field! Ve ve Germany, they're over here!"

Everyone turned with a smile to see Italy, greeting him with a general murmur. Germany wasn't long after through the arch; he might've been caught in the crowd. The Italian waited for the blonde and blue-eyed nation and the pair approached the former group, seeming pleased to have found them.

"Ve~ How's the game going?" Italy asked, casually flopping over Romano's shoulder from behind so Romano was being attacked on all sides. "The players look really angry~"

"It's still naught-to-naught, that's probably why," England nodded in agreement. He swayed slightly when America leaned more forcefully on him, but he didn't seem to mind. Italy grinned at him and nodded to an equally happy Belgium, wishing both she and America luck with a giggle.

Germany just sighed and patted Italy's shoulder. "This should be a good game."

**O~o~O**

"H-how did you do that?!" America shrieked, staring with dumbfounded shock at the field where the Belgian players gathered in a heap on the second scorer of the game. "Bro that was friggin' crazy! Oh no…" he whimpered.

"I-I don't know! It just happened! Anyway, how did your goalie block every shot before that?!" Belgium was just as stressed, even though she had nothing to worry about. But she was also kind of excited because it was turning out to be a great game so far, not like the ones her team had won without trying.

England, Spain, Romano, Italy, and Germany all stood back from the pair that was leaning as far as they could over the sidelines to see what was happening. There was occasional arms waving and yelling and jumping up and down, but other than that the two opposing nations were totally fine with just watching. Usually in a game like this, two sides would practically declare war on each other. But this didn't seem to be the case with the two blondes.

Britain was quite upset with what the game was turning out to be, and the others didn't notice because, you know, he usually glared at things. But Germany did understand he probably was distressed and dismayed more and more at the game progressed. He remembered how he felt when Italy was this close to being eliminated. "Er…" he tried to come up with something right to say. "I, um...America still has a chance, right? Time hasn't run out yet." he offered a little lamely.

England sighed inaudibly and nodded numbly in Germany's direction, but didn't say anything.

And so the game went. It was only when one of the American players, one of the youngest made a goal, that the patriotic side was reignited with hope. There was still extra time left, and America gave it his all, with the goalie refusing to let any more in and the players taking every chance they could to shoot.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough.

The final whistle blew, and the gracious Belgian smiled sadly up at the American and gave him a hug before waving a goodbye to the rest of the group and taking her leave by running across the field to celebrate with her team.

America despondently trudged back towards the group and refused to meet England's eyes in shame. "I, uh…" he said, meeting everyone else's gaze with a fleeting glance. "S-sorry guys, I...E-especially Germany...I can't be there for ya dude...Well, there's always next four years…" he began to talk to himself in an incoherent tone that no one else could hear.

"I'm sorry, America, we all are. You did great," Spain tried to smile but couldn't, and he spoke for the inconsolable Italian currently sobbing in Germany's arms and his brother, who was off cursing at the wall in anger. "You did really great."

Britain awkwardly kicked at the turf, hugging his arms. "A-America…" he said in a despairing voice, but the way he spoke his name was more like he was begging for him to be there. "Alf-fred…"

America seemed to be awoken from a trance and immediately darted to the Englishman and hugged him close. "I-Iggy, I'm so sorry! I let you down, I promised you I'd win and...Oh, Arthur! I'm so so sorry!" he looked at Britain with teary eyes, having broken the one pledge he'd made.

"It's not your fault, git…" England mumbled, but submitted to him anyway, struggling to not cry. His poor little American, with his one dream shattered…

"Germany…" America said, and everyone looked at him in confusion. "It...It's up to you now. To win the cup. For all of us." he said in a deeply serious tone.

"Me?" Germany asked in bewilderment.

* * *

**YES GERMANY. IT'S ALL UP TO YOU XD Alright, not sure which games I'm doing next. Two days from the final game! I can't wait, Germany vs Argentina! If Germany wins, I swear I will be crying and the chapter will be so full of everyone crying too like in this XDDD So hope y'all enjoyed, especially the pick-up lines! ;D**

**~Fezzes64**


	10. Germany Victorious

It was Germany's turn to fall asleep on the couch that night, looking exhausted and worn out of the day's events. A few meandering hairs dipped over his face, not quite covering the dark circles under his eyes, and the black frames he wore when he read were barely balanced on his nose.

Italy smiled softly at him, carefully removing the glasses from his face and placing them delicately on the polished wooden coffee table. He also took the liberty of prying his fingers off the book he held in his lap, and placing it accordingly next to his lenses with the utmost care. There was only one lamp on in the room, that cast a warm yellow colour throughout the room as well as a glitter in the Italian's honey eyes. He couldn't help but admire the strong outline of the larger nation under the dim light; the shadows traced every contour, every line of every muscle of every tone; he was such a tough and sturdy character, and beautiful, too.

"Oh, did he fall asleep, now?" asked a soft, gentle voice behind him, and Italy jumped.

"Ah! England! Yes," he breathed, having been startled, and turned with a smile to the Brit. "I don't know how long ago, though, ve~"

"I didn't mean to alarm you," Britain apologised. America was with him too, and nodded in agreement. "We just came up from downstairs. Anyway...How is he?" he blinked and tilted his head slightly.

It sort of touched Italy, in a sense, that recently everyone in general began caring and becoming considerate about everyone else, and as an instinct, he hopped forward and embraced Britain with a happy giggle. "Ve, he's just tired, he has a hard game tomorrow~" he answered, the moment becoming even sweeter when England didn't hesitate to hug him back, smiling to him. "He told me he's ready for anything the Cup has to throw at him now, and he has us to cheer him on. He didn't expect so much support, but...You know how he is."

The Englishman chuckled. "Oh yes. He is a very modest person; I think that's what makes him such a good man." he commented, casting a quick grin and wave at a very excited but sleepy Argentina, who had stepped out of the bathroom and headed to his bed. Only eight nations remained in the game so far, and he and Germany were just two of them.

"Yo, Argie, good luck against Belgium tomorrow, yeah?" America spoke up rather tiredly, accented by a hand coming up to rub his eye. "That's gonna be a rough game." his face glowed a little in embarrassment since, you know, he kind of lost to the European nation that same day.

"Oh, _gracias_, America," Argentina's eyes brightened as if he were noticed for the first time and he nodded graciously towards the group with a nervous grin. "I will do my best to advance!" he nodded with determination to his northerner friend. Now, it may not have seemed that way with their governments, but America generally got along with all the South American countries as a person; they were very kind towards him and he in turn tried to be as courteous as possible. "I will do my best for you, mister America!"

At that, the second-largest country on the continent promptly collapsed on his bed and soon was sleeping. America made a mental note to commend Spain for raising this particular colony in such a chivalrous manner.

England smiled over at him as he released Italy, his eyes shining with reverence. "America, you should rest up for tomorrow; you're not going to want to wake up in the morning." he told him a little sternly, and a little amusedly.

"Says you," America mumbled wearily, but obediently took a step towards the bed he was sleeping on. "Wait...Do y'all want m' help or…?" he turned back towards Italy with half lidded eyes, his glasses shifted awkwardly over his face. When he was met with two confused looks, he clarified. "I mean, I'll help ya get German-dude t' bed…" he gestured vaguely towards Germany.

Italy looked at his beloved German, then the bed, then back at America. "I, um, yea...Yea actually…" he said thoughtfully.

**O~o~O**

"Ahonhonhon~! There is _l'Allemagne_~!"

"Ah, _si_! I didn't even see him!"

Germany blinked and stopped just outside of the stadium at hearing his name(In French) and turned slowly, making Italy do the same since he was clinging happily to his arm. He frowned slightly as two familiar Europeans approached, and nodded in greeting.

"_Guten morgen_, Spain and France." he said. "Do you need something?" he looked respectively at the two, but was confused at their appearance; he would have expected France to be on the other side of the stadium and Spain with Romano, who according to Italy, was already down on the field. There could only be one reason for them to be together here with him.

"Ugh, Frog what are you bloody doing here?" England asked angrily, but he was currently being twirled around in a certain American's embrace so he couldn't really glare at him. "A-America, y-you're making me dizzy-!"

Germany glanced at the pair next to him with a wry smile, but then turned his attention back to the flamboyant Frenchman and the smiling Spaniard. France flourished a rose. "Aha, _mon ami_, I only came to wish you good luck, of course! Why else would I come to you?" he chuckled and winked, shaking his head slightly to make his hair flip.

"_Si_, we all know it's going to be a very good game," Spain teased, and crossed his arms with a nod in agreement. The way he said it implied he knew who the winner was going to be, and Germany was determined to prove him wrong.

"There is only one reason you two are here…" he mumbled, sharing a glance with Italy, who grinned because he knew too.

"KESESESESESESESESESE~!"

Yep. There it is.

A wild Prussia appeared. "Kesesesese! The awesome me has arrived!" declared the loudest voice in the hall, and immediately everyone in the vicinity went quiet and glanced over with an odd look.

Germany groaned inwardly and Italy patted his back.

"Aha! There is my little brother! I've been looking everywhere for you, West!" Prussia cackled haughtily, planting his hands on his hips as he slapped Germany on the back with a wide grin. His cocky and arrogant red eyes narrowed as he laughed, and he marched in between France and Spain. "I'm looking forward to a great match today, yea? You better not disappoint me, little brother. But I won't be by your almost-awesome side today, so I cannot guarantee your victory. So it's more likely you'll lose! Kesesesese!" he laughed loudly and casually draped his arms around his friends' shoulders.

"I would not bet on that, _mein bruder_." Germany growled, looking at his brother with a menacingly scary face and held his brother's stare for a moment before abruptly turning heel. "Do not flatter yourself. I've got my eye on you." he said over his shoulder before marching off, and America followed behind him, making 'what' sign with his arms. "Water Tribe," he whispered, and then turned to continue after the others.

"Ooh, Germany~" he teased as he followed suite with England in tow. "Such feisty, very wow!" he laughed at himself and kept up pace with Germany, since he planned on doing just that for the remainder of the World Cup.

"Ve~ I think Germany is going to win~ Don't you?" Italy asked randomly, jumping on Germany's back and grinning at both Britain and America.

"If I lose now I don't know what I'd do with myself." Germany growled, marching onwards darkly.

"**~*~O~o~O~*~"**

"I cannot believe it, I am nervous about this game, why am I nervous about this game?" Germany smacked his head a couple of times, trying to knock some sense into himself; his stomach was just churning like if he moved he'd be sick, and his heart wouldn't stop pounding. He felt slightly faint and was afraid to move at all on their car ride to the stadium.

At least Italy was sitting next to him, giggling the entire time. It was a little weird, but just him being him was comforting. England was smiling at the Italian and trying not to laugh from the seat across from them(_Yes it was one of those fancy limousines and no, I don't know why there is one in Brazil_), with America snoring quietly on his shoulder. Those two were the ones who'd been with him all along. So far Germany hadn't expected so many people to be supportive of him. Hateful, definitely, but...not on his side.

He certainly hadn't expected himself to be so determined to win, not because of competitive instinct, but because he was inclined to win it for his friends. This was his way to make up for them being eliminated.

"It's alright, Germany," England said pleasantly, seeming in a good mood but gazing at him with sympathy, nevertheless. He was probably happy, mostly because of America dozing away on his shoulder and just everything that had happened to him recently, besides being eliminated. Germany had a newfound higher respect for the English nation, being so himself despite the circumstances. "You're going to do great, I just know it." he smiled warmly.

"Ve ve, yea~!" Italy agreed eagerly, leaning into Germany happily for a hug. "You've done so well so far! It would take a lot to beat you!" he laughed as if it were impossible and rested his head on the German's shoulder with a bright grin. "Ve...I can't wait to see you win~"

Germany took a deep breath. He was nervous because nearly everyone in the stadium was going to be against he and his team, and he was afraid of both winning and losing. Be hated and loved, or be loved and hated?

He took a deep breath as the car slowed to a halt, and braced himself as if he were about to get up but accidentally touched Italy's knee. Germany looked over to apologise, then creased his brows slightly as he caught Britain's eyes. The man didn't know how to wake America up, nor did he want to, from the look on his face. It was rather funny, and neither Germany or Italy could hide a slight smile of amusement.

"Er…" The Brit said awkwardly, looking to them for help while carefully prodding the American. "A-Alfre-"

"Oi, you're here, _amigos_, if you're leaving then leave!" announced the loud Brasilian driver, shoving back the door that separated the view from the back seats and in the process making the handle smack into sleeping America's head.

"Oh! Oh…" England immediately took America's face with his hands as he flinched awake with a slight moan of pain, and he gently pulled him closer. "O-oh, Alfred, I'm sorry…" he seemed to be the one who got hurt as he brushed a few locks of blonde hair aside to wince at where he got hit. "That looks like it hurt, love…"

The Brasilian didn't look sure whether to start laughing or offer his sympathy, and let out a soft "Pfft" to hide his unsure laughter. Italy blinked in slightly shock at what happened, but seemed happy with the outcome. Germany was blushing a little bit at what he was witnessing, but didn't let it bother him, since it was probably going to be happening more often. And it was rather touching. America didn't seem to mind his head being held towards England's chest at all, or it could just be he was too tired to care.

"Ve~ Well, at least it woke him up?" Italy offered optimistically as Britain shot a glare towards their driver.

**O~o~O**

"Oh no…" Germany muttered as he ducked his head once again from jeering fans on the opposing side. "W-we should hurry to the field…" he sighed, slightly in embarrassment since he didn't want to admit he didn't like coming across various other people.

"G-Germany…" Italy said softly, pouting and bumping his head repeatedly on his arm. "There's nothing to worry about, just ignore them~" He grinned cutely and looked up at the taller man. "Don't worry about the others, just focus on the game tonight, m'kay?" he told him with the utmost sincere seriousness.

"U-uh..._Ja_…" he replied with a little confusion, and jumped when there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder. He looked at it in alarm and turned, but calmed down when he realised it was just Britain.

"Calm down there, old chap," he chuckled with a small smile. As well as that, he was having to drag a weary America along as they went, nearing the entrance to the field. "It's not going to hurt anyone if you win or lose. Don't be so pressured and stressed; it won't do you any good," he advised like a parent lecturing his child.

"_Ja_. If I lose I only lose all my dignity and any chance of a European winning the cup should Netherlands lose as well. If I win I break the hearts and will of nearly everyone in the nation. It's completely fine." Germany mumbled sarcastically, taking up a more brisk pace out of annoyance.

The Brit sighed at his resolute pessimism. "You're not going to get anywhere if you're going to be like that. This is competition and something you have to take charge of." he reminded the German. "You are going to be amazing today. You have a terribly great chance to win. Just don't let everyone else make you think otherwise."

Germany took a sharp breath. "If you say so." he murmured, his eyebrows twitching as they passed another group of Brasilians. It was a little weird that more people from other countries recognised him than his own people, and also upsetting. It felt like the only people who were going to be friendly towards him were the ones walking with him right then.

"H-hey! Hey Germany!" shouted a voice.

Everyone turned in confusion, since it didn't sound immediately familiar. But America recognised him, and then everyone else. Germany hadn't seen him but the few times in the room or in meetings. "Oh..._Guten tag,_ Argentina." he greeted uncertainly. "Er...Do you need someth-"

"Oh no, I just wanted to wish you good luck, mister Germany!" the South American country said cheerfully, grinning broadly up at the taller nation. "You'll have a tough match, I hope you do well!"

"Uh..._Danke_, Argentina. I believe you also have a hard game as well. Good luck to you too." he replied politely, bowing slightly out of habit. He was wondering why the country would go out of his way to find him, since the other looked red-cheeked and somewhat out of breath, like he'd been running. It was just a game, but then again it was a big deal because he and Germany were just two of four who remained.

"_Gracias_, Mister Germany! See you later!" and with that, the Argentine was off.

With a moment of hesitation, which forced everyone else to stop beside him, Germany looked grimly towards the arch. He huffed a little at it, then took a small step towards it. "Now or never," he said lowly.

"Yea." Everyone else agreed.

"**~*~O~o~O~*~"**

"Dude, this is it, bro," America said with a soft laugh, in disbelief.

"Indeed…" England breathed, looking up at the roaring stadium with a shocked smile.

"Ve yea~! You made it!" Italy giggled happily.

Germany was staring with utter bewilderment at the field as he reluctantly stepped through the arch, hardly hearing his friend's words. It just wouldn't register in his mind, that he'd made it this far. It was unthinkable, unbelievable that he had another chance to win the World Cup.

Although there were more Argentine fans, the spectators still erupted in cheers when the German and his team appeared, and it was a glorious moment that Germany embraced gladly. This was his game, and he was going to play his hardest. With a small smile, he led his friends to their usual spot, where they met with others.

"Honhonhon~_Salut_, we're here to see you~" France greeted with an apologetic grin, as well as the others in the Bad Touch Trio.

"_Hai_, the game is afoot," Japan offered a rare soft smile, and the rest of the Allies and various other nations nodded with agreement.

"Ball!" Italy said randomly, grinning widely.

"What?" Japan gave him an odd look.

"The game is-a football~!" He clarified, giggling, and everyone else laughed as well.

**O~o~O**

"Come on, let's go, let's go!" Germany yelled, urging his team to make a move before half-time. "Make something happen, _ja_? You still have it in you!"

The other nations shouted various encouragements as well, while the rest of the stadium either rang with disapproval or resounded with indifference. Germany did his best to tune the crowd out, since they wouldn't be much help, and tried to think of what it would be like in Berlin right then.

So far nothing had happened; he was worried about that, he felt more comfortable when there was scoring earlier on it the game. The suspense and anxiety only put him on edge, but he was determined to keep his head. It was the only thing he could do, if he were to have a chance at winning. It would be just amazing if he could win again.

He scoffed in slight irritation as the half-time whistle blew and crossed his arms. "Come on Italy," he waved his friend over and started jogging over to where his team was gathering. He assumed Italy would understand he did need someone with him, if not just for support.

"Ve~! Okay!" Italy ran after him, and cast a quick "Be right back, guys~!" over his shoulder. He grinned excitedly as he followed the taller nation towards where the others from his country were and he bounded along with a small spring in his step. "This game is great so far, I can't wait to see you win~!"

"I wouldn't be so at ease…" Germany mumbled, but accepted it the gesture anyway when Italy reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Hey, hey, alright, let's get it together, _ja_?" he announced his presence as he approached, and the team greeted him with weary grins and allowed him into the center of the group. Italy got squished in between two of the German players embracing before he could join the taller nation, but even then he was small enough to almost not be regarded at all. "You are all playing well; I can see it in your faces. But you have to give us a little more than what I'm seeing now. To win this, we have to work together and trust yourself, as well as everyone else. Don't think too hard, but at the same time keep your head in the game. You are able to win this, but I need to see just what you can do. Give me all you have, _ja_?!" he demanded, and the Germans all shouted in approval.

"Ve~! You guys are just the best! But you can be better than the best because you are the elite, right? You don't have to show just us, or the Argentines, you have to show yourselves and the world too! Show all of us how great you really are!" Italy chimed in, hopping up and down to get their attention, and it worked. The Germans shouted even louder in agreement, and it sounded like an entire army was ready to break loose.

"Let's win this!" Germany concluded, and in good time as well; half-time was almost out.

With a roar that could challenge the crowd itself, the Germans jogged back out to the field with the determination of animals, with the two nations following close behind. Germany smiled gratefully down at Italy, and the Italian grinned back.

**O~o~O**

"YEEEEES!" the group of nations screamed simultaneously everyone standing up and donning a disbelieving smile. After full-time and extra-half time, it had been going back and forth and looking grim because Argentina had already proved to be a force to be reckoned with, especially during penalties. But now it seemed Germany could win, he could actually win!

"AHAHA, YES I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!" Germany screamed towards his team, who were too busy celebrating to hear him, jumping on each other and hugging and jumping up and down and basically just basking in the glory. "THIS IS WHY WE ARE THE BEST, GOOD JOB, _GOOD JOB_!"

Italy squealed excitedly and England couldn't resist shouting out loud as well, when America smothered him in a hug out of sheer happiness. The other Axis and Allies and nations seemed to do the same, and Germany was soon being hugged on all sides. It was just an amazing moment, to realise the game was now playing in his hands. He was determined to hang onto it until the last minute.

And that was exactly was he did; Argentina was unable to come back, and the game ended one-to-naught for Germany, and the World Cup was his.

People were in tears, people were crying, nations were wailing in happiness, and Germany was about to burst with immeasurable thrill and exhilaration. He won. He _won._

"Germany!" shouted that voice again, and without even thinking, Germany turned and pulled Argentina into an embrace. "Good game, Argentina," he murmured, hugging him tightly. "You played well."

"Y-you too, Mister Germany, congratulations," Argentina replied graciously, and offered a watery smile before going back to his team. Italy appeared after that.

"Ve~ Germany, you did great!" he said sweetly. "That was just so amazing!"

Germany didn't hesitate to press his lips to Italy's. "It won't be forgotten anytime soon," he smiled and embraced the Italian tightly. "Thank you. All of you."

* * *

**YEEESSS :DDD So that concludes the story~! Thank you for reading! I was so happy Germany won, I was actually at my neighbor's house watching it, and he was going for Argie XP It turned into a tickle fight and I totally destroyed him :D For those who went for any opposing side in this story, thank you :3 I wasn't strictly going for all of my own home teams, I still felt for those who lost. Everyone did amazing, Brazil, and Belgium, and France and Mexico and Chile and...You know XD I feel like Argentina's character is similar to Messi :D Poor guy, he was so sad, but second place is still pretty good! :3 This was a truly amazing cup and I can't wait to see how everyone does come next four years! All I can do is at least hope this story made you laugh, or at least happy :) Because this is the first multi-chapter story I have ever completed :D I love you all, and right now I am going to go outside and bask in the sunlight because it's cold in here and it's all I really want to do XP Good day, good afternoon, good night, and thank you~!**

**~Fezzes64, signing off :D**


End file.
